


Dis, Princess of Erebor

by Melissamermaid



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BYE CANON, Don't mess with Dis or her family, Dís is a BAMF, Elves, F/M, Gen, Hobbits, M/M, She don't take no crap, dwarrows, not canon, we are waving at canon as we pass by
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-05 10:51:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18364535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melissamermaid/pseuds/Melissamermaid
Summary: Dis was born to a flourishing kingdom. All this changed when the dragon attacked... This story followed Dis as she embarks on a journey just days after her brother leaves to retake Erebor from a dragon. She won't sit idly by as her brother retakes their homeland. Who says boys get to have all the fun?





	1. Erebor Flourishes

Dís was born into a prospering kingdom in 2960. She was the youngest of three children of Thráin. Her mother dotes upon her due to her being a female child of Durin and female dwarrows were extremely rare. Her father and grandfather didn’t really want to have anything to do with a young female child running around. It was a place for men. 

 

Her mother taught her everything she knew. She saw from when Dís a young child that she longed to be treated just like her brothers. But the older men in her life wouldn’t allow her to train as hard as her brothers or even at all. The Durin men were very firm in the fact that female dwarrows did not have a place in battle. Other males had different opinion but not Thrór, and as consequence, Thráin did not either. Thráin would not go against his king and father. 

 

Thrór was a strong dwarf. Sound mind and a vicious warrior. He arranged for her to be courted by Thráin because he approved of her bloodline and it clearly paid off because their union was blessed with a female. Females were treasured among families but they were considered fragile because there were so few born. Male dwarrows coupled with each other because there just weren’t enough females being born. Female dwarrows were quickly snatched up and courted immediately upon their coming of age. 

 

But Thrór was losing himself. 

 

To the goldsickness. 

 

It was evident in the Durin line that more often than not that the royal line succumbed to the lure of the gold. Thrór’s wife passed away a long time ago and he slowly fell into the lure of the gold. He was making worse and worse decisions, making an enemy of Thranduil by refusing to give him the Gems of Lasgalen he commissioned. All the kingdoms in this area were isolated and they all depended on each other to survive. To make an enemy of one of the kingdoms would be suicide. 

 

It was clear that Thrór did not care. 

 

It wasn’t going to end well. 

 

In the meantime, she was going to teach her daughter all she could while she had the chance. 

 

When she was four, she started teaching Dís all she could – starting easy with cooking and as she grew and reached the age of eight, she started teaching her simple defensive positions with a small dagger that she had received as a gift from Thrór when he wasn’t mad with gold lust. 

 

“Remember, Dís, being a royal is not a blessing. People have more reason to hurt you as a female. Do not give them a chance to hurt you.” She warned her daughter carefully. 

 

“Yes, amad.” Dís replied dutifully. She soaked in all the information like a sponge. She poured over texts about various subjects that she needed to be aware of as a princess. She snuck into the trainings her brothers had with Dwalin and other male warriors-to-be. She sketched the forms and practiced them with Dagni, her bodyguard in training and lady in waiting. 

 

Dagni wasn’t afraid to push Dís and vice versa. Dagni became her best friend and confidante. 

 

“A little lower.” Dagni positioned the wooden sword a little lower and Dís corrected herself. Dagni was ten years old and protective over the beautiful princess. Dís was the spitting image of her father and brother, Thorin. The eldest prince was extremely handsome although his beard wasn’t as thick as it should be. Thorin had dark, rich black hair and a long beard for his tender age. Frerin, the middle child, had golden hair of their mother. Dís had thick black hair of Durin and her beard was slowly growing in. All three young royals were young in the year 2970, Thorin being 24, Frerin being 19 and Dís being a mere 10 years old. 

 

Everything was going well. 

 

Until the dragon came.


	2. Chapter 1A

The Queen looked over her subjects, leaning against the wall when she heard her eldest son raise the dragon alarm. She watched as Thror took the Arkenstone from above the throne and run to the gold hoard. 

Fool. 

That was the first place that the dragon would go. 

She heard thumping, like big feet and she couldn’t move as one of those huge red feet came closer to her, closer and closer. She clutched at the necklace that Dís crafted for her. 

She looked up in fear as one of the feet came closer to her, she backed up against the wall and watched as the fearsome dragon cared not as he swung his feet, throwing dwarrows left and right as he made his way to the gold hoard. A soldier came her way and she didn’t have the strength to move as his corpse forced her to the ground, pinning her to the ground. He had extensive armor on and she forced herself still as to not alert Smaug’s attention to her. A tear dripped down her face as she saw her beloved first-born drag his grandfather from the gold room, shutting the door behind them and dragging him out of the kingdom, closing the gates behind him. 

She was alone. 

She heard a contented sigh come from the gold hoard, shaking the foundation. 

She gulped in fear.


	3. 2 - The Dragon

Dís could barely remember what happened when the alarm was raised that there was a dragon. She didn’t think there were any more dragons. They slowly started dissappearing due to a great war between the dragons and the ones that were still around were very aggressive and greedy. Slowly, their numbers dwindled and it was said only one young dragon survived. And Thrór had accumulated the biggest gold hoard around and like a dog, the dragon was drawn to it. 

 

Dís saw a sliver of red before Dagni grabbed her and dragged her to the exit, Dís grabbed the dagger her mother gave her and hid it in her skirts and ran with Dagni. Dagni met up with other bodyguard and they ushered them out of the gates. Dís turned to the other dwarrow and tears gushed down her face as she watched her people pour out of the mountain, screams and cries pouring out. She looked around for her brothers. 

 

“Where’s Thorin?” Dís whispered to Dagni. “Where’s Frerin, Amad, Adad?” She clutched at Dagni fretfully. Dagni swallowed as she looked around for the royal family. 

 

Dís looked around at the desolate area that the dragon fire destroyed. Dale, gone. She swallowed as she took in all the senseless death. For gold? It seemed stupid to her. She had gone into the gold hoard and it seemed senseless to amass all that wealth but leave Dale and Esgaroth and the Elves out in the cold. She saw a burning doll laying on the ground and her eyes watered and her throat became thick. 

 

So many human and human children dead and Mahal knows how many dwarrows. They were a dwindling race due to their slow birth rates but this senseless death made their odds even lower. She didn’t understand it. 

 

Frerin skidding in front of Dís, visibly relieved. 

 

“Thank Mahal you’re safe.” He breathed as he sunk to his knees in front of his baby sister and wrapped his arms around her, soaking in her presence. He leaned back and looked at her face, taking in her eyes and making sure she had no wounds. He sighed, she already looked older. He had no idea how old she would be when they got to their next settlement. Because it was quite clear that they were not going to be living in Erebor anymore. Not with a dragon taking a nap in the gold hoard. 

 

“Where’s Thor?” Dís mumbled, using her nickname for him, looking at her older brother. Frerin looked around. 

 

“He was on guard duty today.” He watched as Dís’ eyes watered and spilled over and a choked sob made itself heard. He clutched her to him and she cried into his shirt. Frerin looked up as he heard a big commotion. 

 

It was Thorin! 

 

“Thorin...” Frerin breathed, Dís whipped around and saw Thorin dragging their grandfather out of Erebor and running free of the dragon. 

 

Dís watched as the Elvenking approached with his army. She looked carefully and saw red hair from underneath the helmets and knew that was the female elf that recently became Captain of the Guard. Dís watched as she approached with her king. Thranduil held up a hand, halting the movement of his army. 

 

Thranduil took in the picture and turned away. Dís looked at Thorin and knew he would take this personally. He looked completely and utterly betrayed. She looked down. 

 

Thranduil looked around at Dale being utterly destroyed. He turned back to the dwarven kingdom under siege by a vicious and dangerous dragon. He thought back in time to other dragons and moved a hand to his face, the magic fading in his head but picturing the giant wound he had on his face from his battle with a dragon. He felt his troops at his back. He couldn’t do this to them. Not with his number so thin. They were constantly fighting the spiders and Dol Guldur kept making advances. He now lost the trade of Dale and he had previously lost the gems of Lasgalen which made him lose respect for Thrór. 

 

Thranduil had fought at the Batlle of the Last Alliance with Elrond and he fought side by side with dwarrows of Durin blood, Durin IV. That was a Durin with integrity. He saw Prince Thorin’s face as he stood by his grandfather’s throne when Thrór refused the gems to him. He saw the confusion as he turned to his grandfather. He obviously couldn’t go against his kin but he had hope for Thorin that he would become like the honorable Dwarrow that he fought with and spilt blood with that day. But judging by his hurt and betrayed face, Thranduil might have to wait a while longer. He was only 24 years old after all. Still an adolescent. He turned away not willing to sacrifice his people for Thrór’s greed. 

 

Dís watched as her brother fumed at the betrayal of the Elves. She didn’t blame the Elvenking, none of the dwarrows that made it out of Erebor definitely hadn’t tried to go back in. They’d be mad to. 

 

As she thought that, she saw Thorin stop Thrór from going back in. 

 

Not too many people were coming out now, Erebor going quiet. She looked around the hundreds of people huddling on the fire ruined ground in front of the gates. She didn’t see her mother. She saw her gold mad grandfather, her push over father and her strong brother and Frerin, but no mother. 

 

Thráin looked pained as he made his way to Dís. He crouched in front of her not knowing what to say. His wife was amazing with their children but he wasn’t the best with his children. 

 

“Dís...” Her eyes snapped to her father’s face. Her eyes searched his face. “Your mother was in the foyer when the dragon entered. If she didn’t make it out by now...” Frerin stared wide-eyed at the blunt information his father was giving his ten-year-old sister. 

 

Dís stared down her father. He didn’t seem to have been in love with his wife or he would have been more upset. He would have been in mourning. He probably had affection for the mother of his children but he wasn’t in love with her. 

 

Thoughts poured in of her mother’s advice. She always hung onto her mother’s words as she said them but now that she was gone, she would take them to heart. 

 

“The men in your life will always think you’re weak. Prove them wrong.” Those words echoed in her head as she stared down the dwarf that would not let her go to lessons with her brothers, the times he would send her to her mother, he didn’t want her around. 

 

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being right that dwarrowdams were only fragile, emotional creatures. 

 

She lifted her head and looked her father right in the eye. 

 

“Then I am the head female royal now.” She looked him straight in the eye and turned to Dagni and stood next to her bodyguard, who was 12 years old now. Dagni looked at the princess proudly. 

 

Thráin swallowed the hurt he felt at the Dístain that his daughter obviously felt for him. Frerin stared down his father, not even knowing who this dwarf was. Frerin turned around and went to speak to his older brother. Thráin stood next to his father as he tried not to succumb to the gold sickness that was still running rampant in his eyes. The blue glint of the ring that Thrór had on his hand distracted Thrór from his inner most thoughts. His wife was dead. Thráin was all his children had now. He was a warrior; he wasn’t good with children. Thrór had picked her out of all the dwarrow maidens for her good breeding and looking at his three children, he agreed. Thorin was a strong heir, Frerin was becoming very good at metal crafting and Dís was the spitting image of her brother with what was evidently a core of mithril. His wife held a lot of influence over their youngest and it was clear that he didn’t know his wife as well as he thought. 

 

Frerin strolled over to Thorin who was stewing in the hate for the elves. 

 

“Thorin.” Thorin looked up at his younger brother, sensing the sadness in his younger brother’s face. “Amad didn’t make it out.” Thorin cursed in Khuzdul under his breath. 

 

“Dís?” He whispered. He treasured his little sister more than anything. 

 

“She’s okay. Dagni got her out. They were one of the first.” Thorin nodded, relieved. 

 

“Those damn elves.” Thorin scowled at the ground at the betrayal. 

 

“Listen, Thorin, enough people have died today. The Elvenking probably didn’t want to die.” 

 

“Amad is in there!” Thorin yelled, exasperated as he wanted to charge back in there and get back his homeland. 

 

“Thorin, think!” Frerin shook his brother. “Dragonhide is practically impenetrable. It’s a death wish!” Thorin looked down, knowing he was right. “We have to think of what we’re going to do. For Dís. For our people. We can’t stay here.” Thorin nodded. 

 

“The Iron Hills are out; they’re overrun as it is.” Thorin stroked his beard. “Ered Luin isn’t overrun yet. It is a long journey though.” 

 

Frerin looked at the Lonely Mountain. 

 

“What choice do we have?” Frerin shook his head. “We must do what we can to survive.” 

 

Thorin nodded his head. 

 

“So, you’re not furious that the elves wouldn’t help us, Frerin?” Thorin couldn’t help but ask his younger brother. 

 

“I’m plenty angry. But not at the elves. I’m angry at Thrór and the dragon.” 

 

“Thrór?” Thorin was surprised. Frerin never did like their grandfather too much. Thorin tried to impress his grandfather, he was the chosen heir after Thráin. Thrór expected a lot out of Thorin and Thorin tried to live up to his name as the preferred heir over his father, Thráin. Thráin was a good warrior but was a pushover. Thorin’s mother was the opposite of that and her stubbornness bled into him. But Thrór expected too much of a dwarf of the tender age of 24, even if he was one of Durin’s line. Thorin was only a dwarfling still. Almost an adolescent but still too young for the pressures that Thrór put him under. But they no longer had a kingdom. He was grateful for no more lessons but not at the cost. His mother, countless other dwarrows and dwarrowdams and young children. And Dale, prosperous Dale, burnt to the ground. His brother spoke, jarring Thorin from his thoughts. 

 

“He attracted the dragon. With all the gold. None of the other dwarrow kingdoms are under attack. You must have realized he’s gold mad.” Thorin looked up at his brother swiftly. 

 

“Those are treason words, brother. Tread carefully.” Thrór did not take well to being accused of being mad with gold sickness. 

 

“They’re words of truth, Thorin. I may be young but I am not stupid. Let us not fight. Enough blood has spilt this day.” 

 

Thorin sighed, agreeing. 

 

“And it’s not the elves fault. I say we blame the dragon over the elves.” Thorin huffed but didn’t argue. Dís made her way to her brothers and flung herself at Thorin. Frerin watched them. Dís and Thorin always had a special connection. He wasn’t jealous because he knew they both loved him but since Dís was placed in Thorin’s hands as a babe, he knew she would have a special place in his heart. 

 

“Are you okay?” Dís whispered into her older brother’s shoulder. He stroked her hair and nodded into her head. 

 

“You can’t get rid of me that easy, Dís.” She laughed wetly. 

 

Thorin looked down at his little sister. She was so young but so strong. His mother died from the dragon invasion but his sister was staring here, looking so put together. This was his mother. His mother was staring at him through Dís. She was so resilient and strong in the face of adversity by Thrór. He saw what she was put through and he saw that in the short time that their mother was in their lives, it left a lasting impression on Dís. 

 

He would die before he let anything happen to his little sister. 

 

Dís grabbed her older brother’s face and slammed their foreheads together in an affectionate gesture common place among dwarrow. Thorin’s heart squeezed. 

 

Mahal help the dwarrow who wanted to marry Dís. He would be put through the ringer...


	4. 2A - Lis is Stuck in Erebor

Lís pushed the soldier off of her, trying to be silent. She thought quickly. She saw some soldiers shake off their stupor and tried to get up and she quickly silenced them. There was no chance Lís could open those doors even with the injured soldiers. 

The soldiers silenced at their queen’s look. She motioned to an intact hallway and the soldiers nodded and she held her finger up to her mouth as she made her way to her feet, moving quietly to the exit. Fifty soldiers followed their queen to the servant’s quarters near the back of the kingdom. She listened carefully for any sounds of the dragon. She closed the servant door and exhaled in relief. Then she sunk to the ground and buried her face in her hands. 

She was utterly alone. None of her children, not even little Dís. Lís’ breath hitched. 

The male soldiers looked at each other and the soldier with the most seniority stepped forward. 

“Your highness?” Lís sniffed and dried her eyes before stiffening her lip and rising to her feet, looking every bit the Queen that she was. 

“I am sorry for my emotional outburst.” Lís spoke and she looked around at the soldier’s that came with her. “It seems we are under siege by a dragon.” The dwarrows murmured to each other as they glanced back in forth. “Thror’s greed has attracted a firedrake from the North. I have heard of this dragon, Smaug the terrible, Smaug the calamity.” She took a breath. “We are locked in here until we find a way out or perish. There is no other option. I know of a set of passages through the mines that go out to the Iron Hills. We either make way to the Iron Hills that are overrun as it is or find food and come back in here.” She sighed at the blank looks the dwarrows had on their face. “I read a little about dragons, I don’t know if Smaug will come out of the gold room. We may be safe cooking, we may not.” 

“We are at your expense, my Queen.” The soldiers bowed as one. 

“What is your name?” She asked the one who stepped forward earlier. 

“Balthrasir, my Queen.” She nodded. 

“I have no kingdom, therefore am not a queen. Let’s just do what we can to survive.”


	5. The Journey Begins

Thorin made his way over to his father and grandfather. 

 

“We must move. We don’t want to chance Smaug coming back out and killing more of us.” Thorin told his father quickly and succinctly. Thráin looked panicked at the thought of moving and he looked around at his people and then at his father. Thorin barely restrained an eyeroll as he looked at his king. Thorin stared at his grandfather. 

 

Thrór stood, his wealth evident in his clothes, eyes clearer than they have been in a while. 

 

“The Iron Hills will be closed to us, as you know, Thorin.” Thorin nodded in agreement. “We have no choice but to move to the Blue Mountains and rule over our people from there.” Thorin bowed in agreement and went to go see his subject. 

 

The dwarrows bowed in recognition of their crown prince. He was a people’s prince. Everyone had a good opinion of the crown prince, Thorin was an imposing dwarf, despite his young age. His thick hair was interwoven with braids dictating his status as a royal and as a dwarf of the line of Durin. His clear blue eyes ran over his subjects to make sure none were harmed during the escape of their homeland. He saw a few children and was grateful that a lot of his subjects made it out. They were a few hundred strong. 

 

And speaking of strength, he needed to maintain his so his people would not panic. 

 

His eyes roved over his subjects that made it out of Erebor. 

 

“I didn’t know where you were, Thorin.” Fundin murmured, running his hands through his thick head of hair on his head. “Where’s the Queen?” Thorin looked down. 

 

“She didn’t make it out.” Fundin murmured a funeral prayer to Mahal under his breath. 

 

“I grieve with thee.” Fundin told him seriously. Thorin nodded in gratitude to his closest friend. Dís appears next to her older brother. “Hello Princess Dís.” Dís’ clear blue eyes stared at her cousin. 

 

“Not much of a princess of anything now, Cousin Fundin.” 

 

Fundin blinked at the concise vocabulary of the princess. 

 

“Um...” He trailed off awkwardly. 

 

“We need to move.” Dís told her brother succinctly. “How are we getting to our next residence?” 

 

Thorin looked at his youngest sibling and raised an eyebrow, Dís is staring back at him, unflinching. 

 

“Grandfather has not made a decision yet.” Thorin answered. 

 

“Grandfather Thrór won’t make a decision that doesn’t have to do with more gold.” Dís scoffed. Fundin’s eyebrows rose quickly. He looked in askance to Thorin, who subtly shrugged. 

 

“Father could.” Again Dís scoffed. Thorin turned his eyes skyward. “Okay, Dís, what do you recommend?” Finally, Dís smirked. 

 

“Go through Mirkwood. We could get a map from the Elvenking.” Thorin stared at her in horror. 

 

“No.” Dís stared her brother down. 

 

“Thorin, we do not have the luxury to be proud dwarrows anymore. We have children here, including me.” Dís crossed her arms and glared at him spitefully. “We could die by the time we get to the Misty Mountains. Do you want that?” 

 

Fundin cleared his throat, making Thorin switch his attention to his cosuinversus his suddenly all too mature sister. 

 

“She has a point. I don’t like the tree-shaggers any more than you do but it’s the quickest and safest way to Ered Luin.” 

 

Thorin pondered this. Or brooded, depending on who was asked. 

 

He didn’t have personal issues with elves, just ingrained stereotypes that the elves were their enemy. He didn’t have any particular strife with Thranduil, only seeing him when he was denied the Gems of Lasgalen, the gems of starlight. He had never met but had heard of the Prince, Legolas. Mirkwood used to be the Greenwood, slowly becoming infected by the spiders and dark evil. Thranduil tried what he could to keep his kingdom safe and the only safe route through the dark woods was The Old Forest Road. 

 

Dís was right. Any other route was ludicrous. 

 

That route was the only route that was a possibility. 

 

“I agree.” Thráin spoke as he came to stand next to his eldest son. Thorin’s eyes snapped to his. “Good idea, Thorin. I’ll speak to your grandfather.” 

 

Thorin cleared his throat. 

 

“Dís thought of it.” Thorin pointed out honestly. Thráin scoffed. 

 

“Dís is a child. She couldn’t have.” He turned and made his way to his king. Dís stared down her father as he walked back to Thrór. 

 

Thorin had seen the way his father spoke to his mother, discrediting any ideas she had and he regretted he wasn’t able to stand up for her when he had the chance. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t do that to Dís. 

 

“I’m sorry, Dís. That he didn’t believe me.” Dís shrugged. 

 

“I care not. I want to get moving.” She turned to meet up with Dagni, leaving her brother and Dwalin to stare after her. 

 

“Thorin, Dís isn’t going to be the same dwarfling that she was in Erebor, this journey will harden all of us.” Fundin murmured to his friend. 

 

Thorin sighed. 

 

“I know but I want her to stay small for longer.” Fundin laughed and slapped Thorin’s shoulder making Thorin force forward slightly. 

 

“Don’t we all. She’ll be a nightmare when she comes of age.” Thorin grimaces, not wanting to think about her courting. Thorin went to the front of his people and got their attention. 

 

“We are now without a home, people of the Lonely Mountain. The dragon has taken it and we no longer have the luxury of being prideful. We must make the journey to the Blue Mountains and start our lives over again! We will endure! We are dwarrows of Erebor and we shall not perish! Not this day! We must make our way through Mirkwood and make our way to Ered Luin! We will leave now!” He roared to his people, their war cries echoing his and Thorin led his people to the edge of Mirkwood, followed by his siblings, their father and grandfather trailing behind and their subjects following dutifully. 

 

An elven guard quickly stopped them as they reached the edge of the forest. 

 

“Halt!” The guard cried. 

 

Thorin stopped and held up his hand to his people to stay the complaints. 

 

“We seek to follow the Old Forest Road to get to the Blue Mountains as our mountain has been besieged by a dragon.” Thorin replied, raising an eyebrow. 

 

The guard opened his mouth to send them away when he heard a voice. 

 

“Let them through.” An elf dropped from the trees without a sound. The blonde head lifted up, a bow in his hands, sword on his hip and arrows strapped to his back. 

 

“My Prince.” The guard bowed and allowed the dwarrows access onto the travelling path. 

 

“My father seeks audience with the Princes Thorin and Frerin and Princess Dís.” Thráin steps forward. “Only.” Thráin frowns but acquiesces, trusting his eldest son to protect his sister. “The rest of the party will be fed, follow the guard to food.” A cheer went up in the dwarrows to the surprise of the elves. 

 

Legolas led the young royals to the Palace, leading them to the Elvenking. The Elvenking stood from his throne, his crown of twigs and pine encasing his head. He was in a casual grey pants and cloak, having changed out of his armor. 

 

“Greetings, royals of Erebor.” Thranduil intoned. 

 

“Erebor has been taken.” Dís piped up, clutching Thorin’s hand. Thranduil peered down at the dwarfling. 

 

“Indeed.” He leaned on his knee so he wasn’t as shockingly tall to her. She peered curiously at the elf. 

 

“Why don’t you have a beard?” Dís queried 

 

“Dís!” Thorin growled, tugging on her hand. 

 

“It’s alright, Prince.” Thranduil looked at the eldest child, remembering him from the scowling look of betrayal. “I am an elf, young Princess. We don’t grow beards. Men do but not Elves.” 

 

“That’s silly. Where do you put your braids?” She peered at his hair and saw some braids in his hair. 

 

“We put braids in our hair on our heads. But I know that beards are very important to dwarrows.” Dís nodded vemehently. 

 

“I’m only 10 years old and my beard is coming in.” She stated proudly, raising her chin to show off her dark hairs growing in. 

 

“I forget that female dwarrows grow beards as well. It has been so long since I saw a dwarrowdam, they are all so coveted.” Thranduil mused to himself. 

 

“Can I ask you a question, King Thranduil?” Dís piped up, releasing her brother’s hand and stepping forward. 

 

Thorin raised an eyebrow at his sister. Hopefully she wasn’t about to start an interracial incident that would have made their trip that much more difficult. 

 

“Of course, Princess.” 

 

Dís breathed in a breath, getting her nerve. 

 

“My amad said you have a female elf Captain.” Dís told him. Thranduil nodded. “Can I meet her?” Thranduil looked to his son. 

 

“Summon Captain Tauriel.” Legolas nodded and stepped out of the throne room, allowing Thranduil to communicate further with the young royal family. 

 

“Summon Tauriel.” Legolas commanded of a guard. The guard nodded and ran off. 

 

Soon, Tauriel arrived at the throne room. 

 

“What happened?” Tauriel asked, she hardly ever got summoned unless it was something bad. 

 

“A dwarf princess wants to meet you.” Tauriel blinked. 

 

“Me?” Tauriel couldn’t believe it. She was a lowly Silvan elf; she had a nice position in the guard but she wasn’t anyone special. 

 

“She asked for the Captain specifically.” Tauriel nodded and opened the door and saw a small dwarfling child. This must be the princess. 

 

Dís spun around as she saw the female elf. She was beautiful. Copper colored hair and green eyes. She turned her eyes to the ground. Tauriel leaned down to speak to the princess. 

 

“You called for me?” Tauriel inquired of the small dwarf. The Princess nodded. Tauriel took note of the beard starting on the little dwarf’s chin. She didn’t have any personal prejudices against the dwarven kingdoms, but of the stereotypes held to them. Of their greedy natures, of their corruptability. But how could she assign such faults to a dwarfling. She couldn’t. 

 

“You are a female warrior.” Tauriel nodded. “Did your father let you train?” Tauriel swallowed the pain at the question. 

 

“My mother and father both perished. I was taken in by the great King Thranduil who allowed me to learn and train as I wished.” 

 

Dís nodded thoughtfully. 

 

“Dís, what are you doing?” Thorin whispered, two elves was enough but now there was a third. 

 

“Quiet, Thorin.” Dís reprimanded sharply. “I’m taking to an elf.” She said the word elf reverently. 

 

“If Father finds out you’ve been making nice with an elf...” 

 

“He’d have to notice me to notice that.” She scoffed. “I’m talking about female things with Tauriel.” She ignored her brother and turned back to the Captain, Tauriel trying to fight back a smile. “Do you have other females in your force?” 

 

Tauriel nodded. 

 

“Females are born at a slower rate than male elves but we do have a significant amount of females in our guard.” 

 

Dís spun around and went up to the Elvenking before bowing and looking at him. 

 

“Yes, Princess Dís?” He queried. 

 

“May I ask that Tauriel teach me how to shoot a bow and answer my questions? I wouldn’t want to take her away from her duties.” 

 

Thranduil looked down upon this dwarfling who had more self-assuredness and more cunning than a dwarf he had met in a long time. He made eye contact with Tauriel and she nodded her acceptance. This was a Durin to look out for, he thought confidently. He had a feeling about Princess Dís. 

 

“You may. We planned on stocking your people of food and supplies for the journey to the Blue Mountains for two weeks. You will need your energy. Your people can grieve and prepare for your journey. Tauriel can teach you the basics but it will be up to you to hone your craft on your journey.” 

 

Dís accepted those terms before turning back to her brothers. Frerin and Thorin stood in shock that their sister wanted lessons from an elf. 

 

He wasn’t looking forward to telling their father. 

 

 

The next day, Tauriel stole the little dwarfling to give her a small bow appropriate for her size and a small quiver of arrows. She taught Dís the basic stances and showed her the appropriate motions. 

 

“Thank you for teaching me this, Tauriel.” Dís told the elf gratefully. “Dwarrows don’t usually use bows for fighting. They prefer axes and swords.” 

 

Tauriel sat on a stool and started conversing with the dwarven Princess. 

 

“You’re the first dwarf I've met, you know.” 

 

Dís looked at the beautiful elf. 

 

“You are the first elf I've heard of. Whispers spread about a female warrior, who gained respect in her kingdom. My mother told me about you, red hair, green eyes and a preference for the bow. My mother taught me that I need to let men think they can protect me and to train in secret, to fight off assassins.” 

 

Tauriel looked down. It was sad that a child was taught to protect herself from such a young age. Dís continued. 

 

“But I am no longer a Princess of Erebor and am subject to the dangers of the world. My brothers are not always going to be there to protect me. I need to learn to protect myself. My father and grandfather don’t believe dwarrowdams can do anything.” 

 

Dís looked at Tauriel and smirked. 

 

“Can’t let my brothers have all the fun.” Tauriel laughed along with the young Princess. Maybe dwarrows weren’t so bad. 

 

 

All too soon, the two weeks were up and the dwarrows of the Lonely Mountain were escorted to the edge of the forest. Food was given and supplies were handed to the dwarrows, with the stipulation that none of the supplies to Thrór. Seems elves held grudges quite well and for years. 

 

Thorin watched all this but didn’t say anything. His people were important. More important than Durin pride. 

 

Dís was actually really upset that she was leaving Mirkwood and the friendship she forged with Tauriel would not be easily forgotten. Tauriel gifted her with the bow she had been practicing with along with the quiver. 

 

Tauriel didn’t want her new friend to not have the best supplies to train. 

 

“Perhaps we shall meet again and you can show me how much you have improved.” Tauriel offered optimistically. 

 

“I would like that, Lady Tauriel.” Dís replied enthusiastically.


	6. Ered Luin

Almost fifteen years passed since Dís passed through Mirkwood with her family and people and made way to the Blue Mountains. 

 

Despite having children and women making their way to their new homelands, they decimated the enemies they found along the way and made it to Ered Luin relatively safe. 

 

But Ered Luin was a much different place than Erebor. 

 

Not as safe. 

 

Erebor was a prospering kingdom that many dwarrows flocked to for the wealth and security that the kingdom had in spades. 

 

But Ered Luin was not safe for dwarrowdams. They didn’t get a fair price when trading and most of all, some were kidnapped as brides by the men. 

 

Some made it back, some didn’t. 

 

The ones that made it back were not the same. 

 

The dwarrowdams of the Lonely Mountain met secretly on the behest of the princess. 

 

“What are we going to do?” They cried as one. They didn’t want to get stolen and be made sexual slaves. They just wanted to practice their craft and find their ones, mayhap have some dwarflings. They wanted to be safe. 

 

“It is clear what must be done.” Dís remarked, taking her spot at the front of the group. She was a mere 15 but she had a lot of respect from her people. 

 

“What do we do, Princess Dís?” One dwarrowdam cried, clearly upset about all these recent events. She had nowhere else to go. 

 

“We must hide our gender.” Dís remarked. Whispers came at that declaration. “We look like male dwarrows. The only thing that differs us are the gems we wear in our ears. And our female braids. We need to wear our hair down like the dwarrows do. Hide our gems, hide our beads unless the males have them to. We need to be safe. We need to change our names if we are to get a fair price for the things we make.” 

 

“Aye!” One elder dwarrowdam cried. Her sister was one that was taken. Her sister never returned. She didn’t dare think about what her sister was going through, preferring to think she died a quick and merciful death. 

 

The other dwarrowdams followed. 

 

“But what about weapons?” One young dwarrowdam asked. “The males have weapons.” She pointed out. Dís nodded. A very good point. 

 

“I shall make a simple sword for all of us. I have some wealth from the profit of my heirlooms from our kingdom. I will explain to my brother of our need for simple protection. I will make Dwalin teach me basic defensive maneouvers and I will teach them to every single female. We will not go quietly!” She shouted at the end, the females echoing her cry. 

 

 

Dís went to her room after the meeting with the females broke up and went to her brother in the forge. Thorin looked up from his work. 

 

“Dís?” He wiped his brow of the sweat. 

 

She hated what they have been reduced to. Her brother, Crown Prince of Erebor, made to do manual labor in a forge. She helped him with his work sometimes, preferring crowns to swords personally but there was no use for crowns in this day and age. They were no longer royalty but dwarrows trying to survive. 

 

“Brother, I must commission a hundred simple swords.” 

 

Thorin’s eyes popped out, thinking of the cost that would be to make those. 

 

“Who is paying for them?” 

 

Dís swallowed, pulling out her bag of coins from the gems she was able to barter, pretending she was a male to get a fair price. 

 

“Me.” 

 

“Sister, what do you have need of 100 swords for?” 

 

Dís swallowed audibly. 

 

“Our people.” Dís whispered. “Our females are being captured and tortured. They need means of protection. I will provide payment for those swords for our people.” 

 

Thorin swallowed. He didn’t realize things were this bad. But Dís had her finger on the pulse of the people and knew things he didn’t realize she knew. 

 

“We wouldn’t have this problem in Erebor.” he grumbled. 

 

“Well, we aren’t in Erebor anymore.” Dís replied sharply. Thorin’s head reared back in shock. “I’m sorry, Thorin but it’s true. We are no longer in a safe kingdom, protected and loved. We are in a world that is cut throat and us being clearly female is not going us any favors. We are getting undersold in markets and being abducted for slaves. It is not right.” Dís shook her head. “This is the reality.” 

 

Thorin watched his sister fight back tears. This is what they are now. 

 

“Just the swords?” He asked. Dís nodded. 

 

“We will fashion ourselves as male dwarrows from now on. Pregnant females will be kept inside. We lost two pregnant dams already. We will need to bind our chests and change our appearance, wearing our hair loose except for family braids and courtship braids.” 

 

Thorin sighed. 

 

“I will need Dwalin to teach me basic defensive maneuvers to teach the females.” 

 

Thorin gaped, females learning to fight? His father and grandfather would have a fit. 

 

“Dís, father wont like this...” 

 

Dís scoffed. 

 

“The time for caring about our Father’s thoughts has passed. We must endure. We females cannot wait for the men to protect us anymore. We need to take to the crafts and bring in more gold in order for our children to survive. This isn’t Erebor anymore. We don’t have the luxury of just being wives and mothers anymore, Thorin.” She swallowed, not willing to bring this up. “I know how much we struggle, if the females took to the crafts as much as the males are, we could have an easier winter. This isnt a time for males to be thick headed. This is about survival.” 

 

Thorin sighed. 

 

“I don’t like it.” 

 

“I’d be surprised if you did.” Thorin barked a laugh, slapping a hand on his sister’s shoulder. 

 

“I’ll talk to Dwalin.” 

 

That was the best she could hope for.


	7. Battle of Azanulbizar

Fifteen years passed and Dís settled into her life in Ered Luin as a young dwarf approaching the age of almost forty years. 

 

Her people made a hall in Ered Luin in Thorin’s name, Hall of Thorin. It represented how much the It took a couple years' worth of constructing but it was finally completed. She had a safe place for her to raise her children, eventually. The Blue Mountains were not as safe. 

 

She hid her gender when she was around men, as she discussed with Thorin. She studiously perfected her bow and arrow craft, spending time in the forest. She kept her sword on her, preferring to have multiple weapons on hand. She always kept the dagger that her mother had given her, not willing to give that last piece of her heritage to those robbers in the villages of men. 

 

Dwalin trained her in defensive stances and she taught them to the dwarrowdams in secret from her father and grandfather. They wouldn’t approve of females fighting, depending on the males to protect the females. 

 

Going against her King endeared the females to the Princess. The Princess was becoming faster at the defensive maneuvers that Dwalin taught her as she taught fellow females the moves. She practiced brutally against Dagni in secret. Thror approached Dagni to train more heavily with Dwalin as she was assigned from birth to be Dís’ bodyguard, Dagni having some from a long line of royal bodyguards. 

 

Dís took note of which female warriors were trying to learn to fight versus learning to defend. Those learning to defend were taught the defensive moves and nothing more. But there were some young dwarrowdams that wanted to learn more. One such female was Dwalin’s younger sister, Aleris. 

 

Dwalin refused to let his sister train with him, as to protect her but she was determined. Warrior blood ran through her veins just as much as Dwalin’s. She took notes in secret, much like Dís did and trained with her sword in her bedroom when she was alone. 

 

Dís noticed this and inducted her into their secret female warrior group, so far it only had Aleris and Dagni in it but there was room for more members. Their brothers and male figures in their lives thought they were really good female friends and let the three of them be alone as much as possible. Dagni shadowed Dís when she went to practice her archery, defending her craft to her family members, declaring it a good skill to know as it can help with hunting. 

 

Thráin didn’t argue after that. 

 

Her father and her came to blows when there was a call to arms over the battle that was to take place in Moria. She didn’t wat her brothers to go. 

 

“Father please! They are not yet of age! Keep one here at least! If not a one survives, who is going to carry on the reign here?” Dís pleaded. She didn’t plead with her king but this one time and it was necessary. 

 

Thror had passed away nine years earlier, leaving Thráin in charge of Thorin’s Hall, named in honor of his beloved grandson. Thror left a box of things for Thráin to go through, although he hadn’t a chance with this call to arms against the Orcs. 

 

Thráin was growing increasingly irritated with Dís’ mere presence since he put on Thror’s beloved ring with a blue gem, not realizing that the ring was a Ring of Power and was turning his worst qualities into his life all the time rather than little flicks. These were usually greed, which Thror had in spades but in Thráin is was distaste for the females. 

 

He swung and hit Dís in the face, she went flying and hit the wall behind her. His ring cut into her face and blood rushed down her face. She held a hand up to her face in shock. 

 

“Enough. That is what I decree.” He spat at her and turned to walk out the door. Dís slumped, tears running down her face as she did not even know who her father was anymore. 

 

Dagni came in when she saw the King leave in a furious huff. 

 

“Oh Mahal, Dís!” She ran over to help the Princess up. “What happened?” She guided Dís to her bedroom where she got a cloth to mop up some of the blood. 

 

“I asked Father to leave at least one of my brothers here, for I am underage. He hit me into the wall.” 

 

Dagni gasped. 

 

“We should tell Thorin. It is completely dishonorable to hit a female, let alone a Princess.” 

 

Dís shook her head. 

 

“Nay. He is too focused on this battle. He wants to prove himself.” Dís smiled sadly. “Just help me come up with a story.” Dagni nodded and tried to stem the bleeding, covering her wound with a patch. 

 

“What happened, Dís?” Thorin demanded as he saw the bandage on his beloved sibling’s face. 

 

“Some stray sparks from the forge burned my face a little. I’ll be fully recovered when you return.” 

 

The hopefully in when you hopefully return was mostly left unspoken. 

 

Thorin didn’t notice how his sister glared at their father but Frerin noticed and frowned. 

 

She hasn’t seen any of them since. 

 

A throat cleared behind her, breaking her out of her thoughts. She spun, her cloak spinning as she nocked another arrow at the intruder. She vaguely recognized him as a leather worker from a small village in Ered Luin. She lowered her bow. 

 

“Hello.” She said to the new dwarf. 

 

“Hello, I’m Víli.” She raised an eyebrow. 

 

“I am Princess in Exile, Dís.” She curtsied. 

 

“So, who taught you the bow?” Dís turned and nocked a bow, hitting the target with precision. 

 

“An elf.” The dwarf, Víli, spluttered behind her. 

 

“A tree shagger?” He scowled. Dís laughed heartily. 

 

“Oh, the Ered Luin dwarrows, so rigid. It’s so interesting.” She spun to face him again. Víli swallowed at the dwarrowdam’s utter beauty. Clear blue eyes matched his brown, her black hair flowed down her shoulders loose and unbound, as her habit, curling like her brother Thorin’s. A few braids intermittently woven throughout her head and beard. She clearly hasn’t come of age yet, the age of sixty still twenty years off but she was coming into herself and had the makings of a very confident, competent dwarrowdam. 

 

“What do you mean?” She stalked up to him and stared him down, the uneasy feeling going through him as he stared down her blue eyes that seemed even bluer in person. 

 

“I haven’t the luxury of prejudices anymore. Elves were kinder to me than any man, so I'll not embrace the Elves are evil prejudices that run rampant.” She ran her hands over his basic clothes. “Have you ever met an elf?” 

 

Víli shook his head. 

 

“No, I have only been as far as the Shire to trade.” 

 

Dís smirked. 

 

“Halflings are so interesting, aren’t they? They so love the elves.” 

 

“Unfortunately.” Dís scowled. 

 

“I’ll have to disagree with you, Víli of Ered Luin.” She declared, about to say more when Dagni ran up to her. 

 

“Princess!” Dagni ran up to her, looked at the unattached male talking to the unattached princess, her eyebrow rising as she saw Víli step away. She ran over the two of them, not seeing anything untoward happening. 

 

“I’m not a Princess any longer, Dagni, I told you.” Dís scowled. 

 

“You’ll always be my princess.” Dagni stared down Víli, seeing him gulp. He was a handsome dwarf with golden tresses braided throughout. His mustache was long enough to have a couple braids handing from it. “But Dís!” She got back to the matter at hand. “Prince Thorin just arrived!” 

 

Dís gasped and ran quickly to Thorin’s hall, not giving another thought to the dwarf she left behind. 

 

Dagni gave the golden dwarf the stink eye. He held up his hands in surrender. 

 

“She’s too young for courting.” Dagni intoned. She knew this dwarf. He was a simple merchant but generally well liked. She would keep her eye on this dwarf. 

 

“I am aware.” He intoned looking at the guard dog, or rather body guard. 

 

“Hmph. I got my eye on you, dwarf.” She pointed at him. 

 

“Well, my name is Víli.” She committed the name to memory. She had a feeling he might be in the fight for Dís’ hand. 

 

Dagni turned to follow her princess. 

 

Dís ran quickly to Thorin’s hall, the bow clutched in her hand. She ran to the front of the crowd that gathered to celebrate the return of the soldiers. Her heart dropped at the small amount of dwarrows that returned. She saw her eldest brother leading the soldiers back, Dwalin, Balin and Glóin following their prince. She looked around for her siblings 

 

“Prince Thorin Oakenshield!” The warriors cried as they reached their citizens. 

 

Vili watched as Dis stepped forward to embrace her brother, foreheads smacking together audibly. Thorin spoke softly to her and Dís’ face dropped from relief into grief. 

 

 

Dís smacked her head with her eldest brother. 

 

“What’s with the Oakenshield moniker?” She teased. Thorin looked uncomfortable. She grew serious. “Where is everyone?” 

 

“Frerin was killed by Azog, the defiler.” He spat the name. Dís’ face dropped, the grief gripping her suddenly. Her head bowed in grief, the grief pouring in waves as she mourned her older brother. 

 

“Oakenshield, huh?” Dís attempted to tease. 

 

“Apparently.” He grumbled. Dís smiled through the grief. She wrapped her arms around her brother’s beefy shoulders, seeking affection. He wrapped a hand around the back of his sister and only family member left. His heart squeezed at his beautiful sister. 

 

“We’re sorry for your loss.” The brothers bowed as one. Dís swallowed and nodded her thanks from her cousins. 

 

 

Thorin changed after the Battle of Azanulbizar. He became more serious, more into his role as Prince. He still worked in the forge but he was more serious. Maybe he felt responsible for Frerin’s death. His brother was almost to the point of coming of age and he wanted to fight alongside his people along with his brother. Thorin didn’t stop him and his father agree to it but maybe he still felt responsible. 

 

“Princess.” Balin bowed to the grieving Dís. Dís looked up at Balin and nodded to him. 

 

“Balin.” Balin went and sat next to the princess. 

 

“Your brother died honorably.” Dís exhaled a sigh of relief. One of the biggest worries she had was that her brother Frerin would not make it to Mahal’s halls. Honor was one of the most important aspects of dwarven culture. She didn’t know what made Thorin lose respect for her grandfather but she suspected he did something dishonorable. Frerin was a good dwarf, he did what he could to provide for the Durin folk in exile and held the princeship with honor. 

 

“That is good to hear.” She replied, relieved. 

 

“You should have seen the Prince.” Balin breathed out, remembering the batlle. Dís watched his face. 

 

“Prince Thráin?” She asked. 

 

“No. Prince Thorin.” He said reverently. Balin shook his head. “I’ve known Thorin all my life. I always looked up to him as an older dwarf.” Dís nodded, lots of her advisors would say the same about her. “But on that battlefield, dead orcs and dwarrows alike, littering the ground and Azog the Defiler holding up Prince Frerin’s head...” 

 

Dís swallowed. She internally said a prayer to Frerin hoping he made it to Mahal’s halls. Balin continued. 

 

“Thorin charged at Azog...” 

 

Dís gasped, hands flying to her mouth, as she listened to Balin with huge eyes. 

 

“But Azog was strong. A strong pale orc. Thorin lost his sword.” Balin stared into nothing as he recounted the battle. 

 

Another gasp came out of Dís’ mouth, unbidden. 

 

“He searched around for what he could find, my brother and I fighting off who we could, trying to get to the Prince. To protect what we vowed to protect. We saw Thorin pick up at huge oak branch, using it as a shield.” 

 

“Oakenshield...” Dís breathed, utterly enraptured by the tale of battle. 

 

“Yes. Azog’s blade got stuck in the oak, allowing Thorin to grab a sword and cut off his arm!” Balin finished. “Where we presume, he died of his wounds as the Orcs fell back in surrender.” 

 

“Hm.” Dís remarked. Balin turned to the Princess’ skeptical look. 

 

“He couldn’t have survived.” Balin told her. Dís shrugged. 

 

“Orcs are a vile race, don’t believe anyone is dead until your sword is in his heart and you see the life drain from his eyes.” Dís spoke wisely beyond her years. Balin saw the truth in that. 

 

“You think he survived?” 

 

“I am saying, Balin, that I would not be surprised if he did. Orcs are a disgusting race with no honor and no right to live on this land. But they did have the backing of Him at one time, provided he was destroyed.” Balin knew instantly who she was referring to. 

 

“He must have...Isildur...” Balin breathed. Dís scoffed. 

 

“Balin, if the War of the Last Alliance truly worked, then the Orcs wouldn’t still be in spades after so many years. They keep regenerating. For what reason? I don’t think the war is over.” She spoke honestly. “I have been reading our accounts and our history here in the Blue Mountains, Erebor library would have more but I was much too young then. Isildur cut the ring off of Sauron and his body was destroyed. But that much evil couldn’t be bound to a body.” 

 

“You’re right. He was a pupil of Morgoth and the Balrog was his best defender and only an elf survived killing one of those.” 

 

“Well, Glorfindel died but he came back to life stronger than when he left it.” Dís explained. 

 

“How do you know that?” Balin queried. Dwarven history in general did not tell about the lives and trials of elf history. 

 

“The Shire. The hobbits love elves and their history. I think they have some elf blood in them somewhere. But they get stories from Rivendell, which is where Glorfindel lives now, a part of Lord Elrond’s guard.” Dís explained. 

 

“He still lives? But that battle was so long ago...” Balin scoffed. “Elves, they live forever.” 

 

“Not forever just a very much longer time than us.” Dís intoned. “I wish to discuss this with this Glorfindel one day. He and Lord Elrond could have great insight into this matter.” 

 

“Thorin would never allow you to travel to Rivendell. He hates the elves.” 

 

“I know...” Dís replied balefully. “Maybe one day I shall do it with my brother’s blessing or not. This affects Middle Earth, not just one person.” 

 

“Wise thoughts. We should think on this more.” Dís nodded. 

 

“We shall.” She sighed. “So, my brother was pretty legendary on the battle field, huh?” 

 

“Aye. I looked to him and thought that would be a king I would follow.” 

 

Dís watched Balin gaze upon her brother. She knew he meant it. Thorin was a completely honorable dwarf. That is what endeared so many dwarrows to him. Including Balin, although he was a cousin, he didn’t shy away from pointing out their faults, even to their face. 

 

Balin didn’t want to go to the Battle of Azanulbizar. He thought it would be a bloodbath. And he was right but he didn’t stop any of the royals from going. Dís was not accomplished as a warrior so she could not go and her father wouldn’t want a dwarrowdam going to war alongside them at any rate. 

 

But as Balin spoke about the battle, Dís realized that Thorin was the royal that Balin would go to war for. That he would pick up arms on whatever quest her brother would set forth. 

 

“But the Misty Moutains are safe.” Balin spoke, ripping Dís from her thoughts. 

 

“They are?” 

 

Balin nodded. 

 

“Yes. The remaining Orcs ran elsewhere. I cannot say the Misty Mountains are completely safe but they’re safe of Orcs.” 

 

Dís breathed out a sigh of relief. 

 

“Well, that’s something.” 

 

“The war with Orcs is over.” Balin breathed. 

 

“For now.” Dís agreed and saw Balin looking at her. “Balin, I won’t be pleased until everyone of those disgusting creatures is dead or I am.” She swore. 

 

Balin sighed but he understood. The Line of Durin had more cause than most to hate Orcs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings. Thanks for taking the time to read this. I had this massive plot bunny and decided that since I have no life I should spend an extended amount of time writing this huge mammoth of a piece. I don't know if I can see this the way I wanted to but I have to say, so far, I am really liking where this is going. I am trying to use the LOTR wiki and stay as true as I can to the dates and ages of the dwarrows (That is Tolkien's preferred plural so that is why you see it so much). The writing style will stay like this, I can't write in Tolkien's verbiage, I am not that good at writing like that. 
> 
> I have some OC's but this is mostly from Dis' POV. We have met one already Dagni. She will be part of this whole story. I have some others along the way. I don't want to plug all these random characters and pair them all up with the company so that won't happen. My OC's will most likely pair themselves up. 
> 
> I have seen Vili being used for Fili and Kili's father so I am not sure which person came up with that, but I have read multiple stories and I tried to use other letters to come up with something but that name makes the most sense to me. I feel like the dwarrows name their children to honor others, like Fili and Kili having the last three letters of their father and Thorin being the second Thorin and so on.
> 
> AN 2: Some plot changes to reconcile with Thrain still being alive, for now. Whoopsie.


	8. Courtship

2810 

Dís was coming of age swiftly, fifty being the coming of age for dwarrows. She was really nervous about her courting. There were so many possibilities for the wrong dwarrow to come for her hand and change his personality and make her life miserable. None of the Erebor dwarrows would do that but the Blue Mountain dwarrows were a different subject. 

She hid her gender when she was around men, as she discussed with Thorin. She studiously perfected her bow and arrow craft, spending time in the forest. 

Soon, her courting ceremony was coming up and she was dreading it. She nocked another eyebrow and sent it flying into the target. A throat cleared behind her. 

She spun seeing that same dwarf from so long ago. 

Víli. 

He came closer to her and gave her a quiver of arrows. She looked at the arrows and at Víli again, fully aware that weapons were a courting gift. She was speechless. 

She was well aware that Víli was an extremely handsome dwarf. 

“Are these elf made?” She asked as she fingered the arrows. 

Víli nodded. 

“I went to Rivendell and got them made for you. I have a bow too but you won’t get that until later on in our courtship, if you choose me. I wanted to be first.” He looked worried for a second. “I am first, aren’t I?” 

Dís nodded, still looking at the arrows. She saw Dagni out of the corner of her eye, watching the two of them so nothing untoward would happen. 

“You went to Rivendell, for me?” She asked, stepping closer to him, but still a respectable difference from the male dwarrow. 

“You were right about the elves. They’re not all terrible creatures.” Víli told her. “If you choose me, Princess Dís, I will teach you everything I know about weapons or make other warriors teach you all you want to know.” 

Dís watched as Víli bowed out and made his way to the village that he lived in, leaving her looking at the arrows he gifted her. Dagni made her way to her Princess, watching her look forlornly at the leather worker as he walked away from her. 

“Dís... We need to tell Thorin that someone gave you an early gift.” 

“Will it look negatively against him?” She asked. 

“No. But everyone needs to make their plea for your hand.” Dís sighed, already hating this process and it hasn’t even started yet. 

 

Dís handed over her new quiver of arrows to her brother. Her father couldn’t be bothered to hold her courtship, fostering it off on his son as he embroiled himself in plans that he buried himself in in his bedroom. 

Thorin raised an eyebrow. 

“Dagni told me I had to hand these over to you until the official tournament begins.” She told her brother succinctly. 

“And who exactly gave those to you?” He eyed his sister’s face. 

“If I choose him, then I'll tell you.” She sniffed as she turned and stormed out of the room, leaving her brother staring after her. 

“It begins.” Balin remarked from across the room. Thorin sighed and rubbed his face. Dís was going to be the death of him. 

The next day, the first part of the Royal Courtship process started. Gifts started pouring in from Blue Mountains dwarrows and Erebor ones alike. Thorin started with the arrows from the unnamed dwarf and gifts started piling, ranging from weapons to jewelry to letters. He didn’t open the letters but handed the gifts to Dís. It was up to the female to choose for herself. He changed the traditions that his mother was subject to. The King usually chose the wive for his sons, but Thorin loved his sister and wanted her to marry whomever she wanted to. 

Thorin was about to head to the forge when he heard Khuzdul fluently being yelled at the top of his sister’s lungs in fury. 

“That Orc lover! I’ll kill him! Let me go!” Dís furiously shouted to Dwalin as she wrestled against Dwalin’s strength as she tried to physically attack a dwarf. 

“What is going on?” Thorin demanded, making his way through the crowds and Dís charged at Dwalin, making him move back surprisingly. Dís was stronger than she looked. “Dís!” She stopped trying to muscle past Dwalin. 

“The Princess is trying to kill a Blue Mountain dwarf.” Dwalin told him while trying to block Dís from going any further. 

“Why?” Dís growled again and turned around and showed him the bow that Tauriel gifted to her so many years ago when they travelled through the Woodland Realm. The string was severed. His eyes snapped up to his sister’s as her eyes filled with tears. The bow meant a lot to her. “Who did this?” 

Dís pointed a finger at a dwarf that looked scared but stood his ground. 

“No wife of mine will be using a weapon, any weapon!” He roared. “And certainly not some pointy eared bastard make either! Elf lover!” Dís went to charge him again and Thorin quickly grabbed Dís around the waist, trapping her against him, her feet kicking out in anger as she started screaming again. 

“I’d rather be an elf lover than touch you, orc scum! Come say it to my face without your pretty friends around, you bastard!” She screamed at the dwarf. 

Thorin sighed, this fell to him as her brother. 

“Dwarf, it is up to Dís to choose her husband.” He told him. 

“But that is not tradition, the best gift gets the female. I gave you a blade of mithril.” He deadpanned. 

“All the better to take off your groin with, scum!” Dís screamed still fighting Thorin’s grip. Thorin swore and got a better grip on his surprisingly strong sister. 

“Dís chooses her husband. Any courtship gifts will be returned if she doesn’t choose you.” Dís ran into the house and slammed the door behind her. 

Soon, a silver dagger came soaring through the air and landed in front of the Blue Mountain dwarf. He jumped back so it wouldn’t impale his foot. 

“You almost hit me, you mad female!” 

“Too bad.” Dís drawled before returning to her house and slamming the door, Thorin wincing at the banging going on inside. The fights have begun for Dís’ hand in marriage. Sooner than he expected. 

Dís was a catch. She was beautiful but she was a Princess. That was in high demand, she had knowledge of kingdom ruling and the Blue Mountains had no ruler so any advice Dís could give them was in high demand. Even though she was only ten years old when Erebor was lost. 

“I think you’ve been eliminated from the search.” Thorin told the unnamed dwarf. He turned back to the house and searched for his sister. 

The royal courting for the Princess’ hand varied from normal dwarven courting. There were as many rounds as the King wanted but at least three. There was an initial gift, showing knowledge of the Princess or Prince depending on the gender. Weapons were often given, although females didn’t have much use for them as they were not traditionally warriors. Dís received a lot of daggers which the females used as protection against unwanted advances. Dís received one quiver of arrows from a dwarf she refused to name, countless gems inlaid in beautiful jewelry and letters of various length. Perhaps he should have read the letters first to spare Dís some frustration. 

Thankfully, Thráin was much too busy constructing Thorin’s Hall to remember that Thorin never went through a courting process. Not that he was considered a catch anyways. He didn’t have a huge beard and he was heir to a kingdom that was overtaken by a dragon. 

He heard some sobbing coming his sister’s bedroom. His heart squeezed painfully. 

She had to see multiple suitors in order for it to be a fair and uncontestable courtship. 

The second round would be with Dís and Thorin, where the gifts she accepted which was a minimum of five would come forward and produce their courtship beads that they handcrafted. They would submit the beads to Thorin who would say whether they were worthy or not. The ones that were not worthy were dismissed from the running and Dís would not reveal her preferred bead until the final round which was the second gift. 

The second gift could be anything but it could also compliment the first gift. Most chose to do that. 

He opened Dís’ bedroom door and saw her sitting on the floor, crying into her knees, arms folded around them. Dagni crouched beside her and comforting her in low tones. Dagni looked up and patted Dís on the back before exiting so the two royals could be alone. Dís wiped the tears from her face as her brother sat next to her. 

“I would have never allowed someone to break your bow.” Thorin told her. 

“I know.” She sniffed as a lone tear rolled down her face. 

“So, what else is happening? I know the bow is a big deal but I feel like something else is driving these tears.” 

Dís rose and grabbed daggers from the wall, releasing the letters from the wall. She handed them to him, his eyes rolling over the words, dread and horror filling him with every word. 

He could see why she was so upset. 

These letters were filled with hate for her elf compassion and promises that she would never see the light of day, bound to the house and only to have children and no other independence. 

“These are from the Blue Mountain dwarrows, the Erebor ones are much kinder.” She said quietly. 

“Did you receive a letter from the quiver dwarf?” He knew that was the gift she preferred. 

“No, he spoke to me in person.” Thorin’s eyebrow raised as that was highly improper. “Dagni was there, she made sure nothing dishonorable happened.” 

“We still need to pick four others at least to go through the next round.” Dís nodded. 

And they went through the motion. They wrote letters to the five Dís selected for the bead ceremony. Thorin asked Dwalin and Balin to come along to be second and third opinions as they were personally invested in the husband of Dís. They loved the Princess as their own sister, their sister Aleris was adoring of the Princess, modelling herself after her, begging Dwalin to teach her how to use a sword. Dwalin doesn’t want his sister to be harmed, having a soft spot for his youngest sibling and didn’t want her to be harmed. 

Aleris wasn’t cut from the same cloth as Balin, who was scholarly, much to the disappointment of her brothers. She was cut from the same cloth as Dwalin but she had long learned to keep that hidden from her father, gotten a few backhands to the face for her troubles. But her father perished in the battle that claimed Frerin. Aleris met with Dagni and Dís and trained in secret. She was becoming a talented axe wielder like her brother, slowly gaining strength over the sessions. 

All too soon for Dís, the bead ceremony was beginning. 

From the five suitors, two suitors made insulting beads. They were not fit for a dog let alone for an Ereborian princess. 

Then there were three suitors. 

Víli, another Blue Mountain dwarf and one Erebor dwarf. 

Finally, the third round had happened upon them. The final gifts. 

Víli produced an elf made bow, the Blue Mountain dwarf produced tea leaves to enhance the chance of pregnancy and the Erebor born dwarf produced a handmade silver cirlet. 

Thorin stood aside for Dís to look over the gifts, seriously taking in the gifts. It might be smarter or make more sense for her to agree to marry the Erebor dwarf if they ever took back the Lonely Mountain but as she looked up and saw the most handsome dwarf she had ever laid eyes on, Víli smiling gently at her. 

She made her choice. 

She picked up the bow and clutched it to her. 

“Thorin, I want Víli’s bead.” She said without breaking eye contact with her soon-to-be husband. 

She heard shuffling behind her as the dwarrows shuffled out of the intimate moment. 

Thorin placed the bead in Víli’s hand, Víli grasping the leave design inlaid in the bead, moving closer to his bride and his deft hands started composing the engagement braid at her temple, securing the bead and using one of his clasps from his hair to tie it off. 

Víli watched his bride stare at him, utterly besotted with a lowly leather worker. 

The protocol at this point didn’t dissuade him from kissing her, it wasn’t improper. 

Víli couldn’t help himself, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around the dwarrowdam that he had been in love with from afar for so many years. He pressed his lips to hers, their facial hair entwining lovingly. They lost themselves to their passion for several moments. 

A throat cleared and Víli pulled back, watching as Dís’ eyes fluttered open slowly. 

He smiled gently at her. 

She smiled back happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to have more happening in it but I decided to end it here. 
> 
> Enjoy!


	9. Chapter 9

2945

Lís’ life has changed dramatically since the way has been shut to her, locking her inside Erebor with a dragon and fifty soldiers. 

They stuck to the servant’s quarters which were small, but they very quietly were able to dig a hole to the outside. From there they were able to hunt and they carefully cooked a great distance from the mountain to not alert the dragon. 

The dragon was very quiet, sleeping almost but they didn’t want to tempt fate. 

It had been almost seventy-five years since they first became entrapped and quite honestly, she thought it was a blessing. 

Sure, she could do without the horrible feeling that the dragon could awaken at any time and kill them all with his fire breath but there was no Prince Thráin who constantly talked down to her, no Thror throwing her against the wall in anger with the gold so close to him, him clearly being under the thrall. 

She had no royal responsibilites, no quarrels to answer. 

The only thing she did miss was her children. She loved her three children and thought about them every day. Especially her daughter Dís. She hoped she instilled enough independence in her daughter to survive the unsafe world outside Erebor. She hoped she tried to instill doubt in prejudices like her mother tried to do to her. 

She had gotten a few broken bones and black eyes from her King Thror when she tried to influence him in that way. She learned quickly to try and influence the younger generation versus the old mites who had gotten far too set in their ways. 

Lís was no longer under her kingdom’s thumb and she became more the dwarrowdam she was before she married Thráin. She hunted with the men, she practiced swords, trained with the men, became a soldier and with it, earned the respect of her soldiers. 

And the eye of a certain guardsman. 

Balthrasir watched his Queen any time he could. She was still his Queen, no matter what she thought. She had more honor than what he saw from Thror. He was just lucky that he was knocked out when the dragon came and threw him and a bunch of soldiers against the wall. He was the soldier with the most seniority that was trapped in Erebor. 

He watched as the Queen made decisions, tried to help the small company of them survive. She engineered a slow process to reach the outside, finding a soft spot in the floor and helping them dig a big enough tunnel to the outside. To get food. 

She hunted with the rest of the men, learning their craft of war. She was preparing for war. She would fight against anyone that would do her people harm, as few as they were now. 

She was the one worth following. 

And he loved her deeply. 

He tried to hide it of course. 

It wouldn’t do for a lowly soldier to be in love with his Queen who was married to his Prince. 

True, he didn’t personally like his Prince and he felt she could do a lot better in a choice for a husband but he didn’t make that call. 

His soldierbrother’s told him to tell her how he felt. 

But he couldn’t. 

 

The Queen was light on her feet. 

She told the soldiers she was going scavenging. They could only sharpen their swords for so long before they started killing themselves in boredom. 

She decided she was going to try and get into the library and bring some scrolls down to read and maybe recopy in fancy calligraphy. It would give them all something to do. Balthrasir was against this. 

“My Queen, you shouldn’t travel alone.” 

She shook her head. 

“Balthrasir, we cannot just sit here with nothing to do. We need something to occupy ourselves, or we will go mad. We cannot open the forges and craft, that wyrm will hear us...” Balthrasir could see the merit in her words but didn’t want to lose the Queen he had grown to care so much about. 

Then he noticed something. 

Her marriage braid was gone, along with her courtship braid. 

“My Queen, your braids...” 

She looked down demurely. 

“If my husband has not even attempted to find me in twenty years or even try to get me from the dragon, then he doesn’t deserve my loyalty anymore. I doubt he has been loyal even when he was in Erebor.” She smiled sadly as the soldiers shifted behind him uncomfortably. 

It was true. Their marriage was a political union and did not carry any love beyond the love for their children. 

“My Queen...” He still tried to get her to stay. 

“No.” She refused, toeing off her boots and getting all her jewelry off, leaving it in a pile on the floor. “I will go to the library and find some scrolls.” Soon she set off to do just that. 

She grabbed scrolls from the ancient times and grabbed some parchment, scrolls and ink. She stacked them on the floor and quietly went to a place she hadn’t dared go before. 

Thror’s bedroom. 

It was against the law to go into the King’s bedroom without permission and Thror never gave his permission to any dwarrowdam other than his late wife. 

She looked through the bedroom, left untouched and rifled through papers on his desk and various gems and jewelry pieces on his dresser. Nothing of import. She fingered some negotiation scrolls pertaining to the gems the Elvenqueen commissioned for her husband, the Elvenqueen. 

Lís thought back to a conversation with her son Thorin when he was in the throne room when King Thranduil came for the gems. 

“What is it, my son?” Lís asked her beloved son as he sat in front of her after a long, luxurious bath, as she parted his hair and lovingly set braids into her son’s hair. Her own blonde locks couldn’t compare to the dark tresses her son and daughter had, although her youngest son took after her in that respect. 

“Amad, the elf king came to collect his gems but grandfather refused them.” Lís hummed under her breath as she fastened a bead into the braid followed by a clasp. 

“Did he say why?” She started another braid. 

“No. He just refused them, the Elvenking stormed out, followed by his soldiers.” Thorin seemed confused by the situation. Lís knew why. Her son was honorable. 

She fingered the contract drafted by Balin, lifting it for her perusal. She ran her eyes over the text, Gems of Lasgalen, requisitioned by the Elvenqueen. Apparently, they were necklaces and loose gems that she had from Thranduil as bridal payment for their marriage. They were apparently gems of starlight, which she remembered were beloved by the Woodland elves. Thranduil received the gems from his mother to bestow against his bride. 

The dwarves were tasked of reconstructing the necklace into mutiple necklaces for the three sons of Thranduil’s bride price, with a separate piece to remain with her and lose gems being made into five circlets for the royal family. 

Suddenly, the conversation with Thorin made more sense. Thranduil must have deemed this a grave insult, as she knew the Elvenqueen sailed west, not able to take her beloved forest being overtaken by the darkness. He no longer had his wife present with him so he wanted these gems that he gifted her. Thror refused him for whatever gold sick rationale he came up with at that moment. 

Lís flipped the scroll to the pavement page, paid in full glared at her in green ink. 

She should return these gems to Thranduil. 

But her luck they were probably in the gold hoard with that wyrm. 

She turned and looked at the chest at the bottom of the King’s bed. She kneeled before it and carefully opened the chest, trying not to let the unused hinges creak. 

She fingered some courting letters from the deceased queen and responses dictating that Thror did have a heart once upon a time. 

She found some black tipped arrows that did not look Elven or even of Dwarven make. They held the mark of Dale. 

She grabbed the arrows, thinking that they might be of some use. As she settled the quiver on her back, quietly, she saw a chest on the bottom of the chest. 

She noticed the Woodland Realm impressed on the leather of the box. 

“Oh no, Thror...” She breathed as she opened the box and the brightness of the starlight gems shone in her face. She held up a hand, shielding herself. 

The fully completed order for the Elvenking laid fully intact in the bottom of Thror’s personal chest. 

If Thror had his way, the Elvenking would never see these. 

Lís mouth pulled into a determined face. 

Thror wasn’t here, Lís was, and she would think of a way to return these to the Elvenking. 

Somehow...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Lis interlude.


	10. Dis

Dís settled into her married life quite well. True to his word, Víli taught his new wife everything he knew. 

 

He also forced her brother and Dwalin to teach her to fight, just as she wanted. Víli encouraged her to do anything she set her mind to. 

 

She had becoming really good friends with Balin and Dwalin surprisingly, Thorin was clearly closest to them, despite the age difference between them. Dwalin was born two years after they were exiled from Erebor and Balin was a mere seven years old to Thorin’s twenty-four. 

 

She missed her elder brother dearly with every new thing she learned, be it wifehood or a fighting stance. Frerin was always her biggest fan. Dís became expert on the bow and arrow, becoming quite good at the battle axes that the dwarrows were so fond of but she preferred having a sword along with her bow and arrows. Having more than one weapon that she was versed in gave her twice the chance of survival. 

 

Dwalin was currently away with her father and a handful of other soldiers. Thrain wanted to retake Erebor so he grabbed the best warriors he could and as much as she didn’t want her friend and instructor to go, she wouldn’t say a word of that to her king. Sbe didn’t want another scar on her face. 

 

She heard some thumping and saw that Dwalin and the soldiers returned.. She was not expecting them to. They were not suecessful if they arrived back. She did not see her father among the soldiers. 

 

“Where is Thrain?” Thorin asked. 

 

“We don’t know, Sire.” Dwalin officially answered. 

 

“Why not?” 

 

Dwalin took in a breath. 

 

“We were under Mirkwood trees, having gone around the forest at Thrain’s insistence. We were hiding under some brush avoiding the rain and I turn around and he’s gone. We searched the whole forest but no King Thrain. We returned home to inform you.” 

 

Dwalin stood silent, awaiting the punishment from their King from losing Thrain. “I volunteer to be beheaded in retribution.” 

 

Dís let out a distressed sound, which was ignored by her family. 

 

Thorin let out a sigh. 

 

“I’m not going to behead you, Dwalin.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “I told father that this was a fool’s errand but he didn’t listen. Let’s just try and survive. Erebor is a fool journey. Clearly.” 

 

Dís frowned but didn’t argue with him. Now, the only Durin’s still breathing were her and her brother.


	11. Chapter 11

The Queen finished transcribing the latest scroll. She was learning a lot of things that have been long forgotten to those except for the scribes. 

 

Written was the tales of the Valar and of the Istari - good and evil. 

 

Supposedly, there were some beings that were sent to Middle Earth to protect the Free People as Sauron was rising to power. 

 

But she had seen the Grey Wizard in Erebor before, even just recently. 

 

If Sauron was destroyed, as the ring was ripped from Sauron’s hand and he was blown apart, wouldn’t there be no further need of the wizards to be here. 

 

A thought gripped her. 

 

What if Sauron wasn’t destroyed? 

 

“Lís.” She looked up at the guardsman 

 

“Balthrasir.” She put the scroll to the side as she stood, wrapping her arms around her lover, him encasing his arms around the beautiful Queen. 

 

Shortly after she got the first batch of scrolls, Balthrasir revealed to her in a fit of anger that he was in love with her. 

 

She was shocked, she didn’t think anyone would really want her after her husband never came after her. 

 

“You had something to tell me?” Balthrasir asked her as he released her from his embrace. 

 

She placed her hand on her stomach. 

 

“I am with child.” She breathed out, anxious about his reaction but the load lightened as he beamed at her, happiness eminating from inside of him. “Balthrasir, what are we going to do?” She whispered. 

 

Balthrasir didn’t know what they were going to do yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my take on Lis' new guy is that she and Thrain didn't love each other, it was a political marriage so she could fall in love after him.


	12. Radagast

2860 

 

Radagast’s nose twitches as he breathed in the stale, dead air of the once great Greenwood. 

 

He listened to the bird’s tweets and deciphered the tweets into words that he could understand. 

 

It was a message. 

 

For him. 

 

Of the five wizards that were sent to Middle Earth to protect the Free People, only three stayed near the People. 

 

It was Radagast, Saruman, the wisest and Gandalf. 

 

Radagast was sent by Yavanna, the Mother of the Hobbits, Saruman sent by Aule, who created the dwarves and Gandalf was sent by Manwe, being his second in command. 

 

The two blue wizards quickly disappeared soon after they touched the ground. 

 

But drifts of words were coming to him and he didn’t like what he heard. 

 

He whistled quickly and gathered his Rhosgobel Rabbits, moving quickly through the sick forest. 

 

He rapidly approached the palace of the Elvenking. He stepped off the sled and was stopped by guards. 

 

“Halt!” They intoned. 

 

“I am Radagast, a wizard. I would like to speak to the Elvenking, if you please.” He spoke softly. He didn’t really like to talk too loudly, it was hard to hear what the creatures around you wanted to say when you were yourself loud. 

 

A blonde elf dropped from a tree, rising to his feet agile. 

 

“My Prince.” The guard sounded exhausted. “You’re supposed to be in the palace.” 

 

“Interesting.” The Prince smirked. “Yet here I am.” 

 

“Legolas!” The King stormed outside the Palace, setting his eyes on his son, who rapidly jumped up the tree. The King sighed. 

 

“If only he had a little less of his mother in him...” He muttered to himself. He looked at the guards and saw the small, grungy person. “Who is this?” He asked his guard in Sindarin. 

 

“Wizard, wants to speak to you, Sire.” The guard replied in Sindarin. 

 

“I can speak Sindarin, you know.” Radagast couldn’t help but pipe up. Thranduil looked at the wizard. “I am also known as Aiwendil.” 

 

That name Thranduil did recognize. 

 

“Come in. Quickly. It isn’t safe outside the Palace.” 

 

Radagast quickly followed the Elvenking, long blonde tresses spinning as the silver fabric rustled when the King spun around on an elegant boot covered heel. He wore a crown of twigs, his blue eyes gleaming as he sat on his throne. 

 

Radagast took note of the twin throne that held dust and cobwebs on it. He imagined that Thranduil hadn’t been able to allow even servants to clean something that his wife last touched. 

 

“Thranduil, I've been getting whispers.” He said seriously, not willing to beat around the bush. 

 

“Whispers?” 

 

“The wizards, myself included, were sent here to defeat Sauron. We don’t remember too much, able to make mistakes and errors. Something has tipped. There is unrest. I feel it in the air.” 

 

“But Sauron is defeated. I was there!” He cried. “My father perished there! We, the dwarrows and men drove him back. Elrond saw the ring be removed and his body exploded.” He tried to remember what happened afterward. 

 

“But he was not defeated. The rings...” He trailed off, trying to connect the dots. 

 

“The rings of power?” Thranduil asked as he tried to remember back to that time. He didn’t like to think about all the death and destruction, losing his own father. 

 

“Yes! Something about that is important...” Radagast trailed off. 

 

“Well, there were three given to elves, nine to men and seven to the dwarf lords.” He recounted. 

 

“And then Sauron’s ring.” Radagast reminded him. 

 

“The Ring... Yes, I remember now. Elrond tried to get Isildur to destroy the ring by firing it into Mount Doom, but he refused. Who knows where it ended up now...” Thranduil trailed off. 

 

“It will show up soon. But there is whispers that a wizard has not been faithful to their cause. I have not been any Free People, that is true but I have been trying to heal the Greenwood of the spiders... I have not forgotten the reason we have been placed here.” He pleaded to the Elvenking. 

 

“But one has.” 

 

“It has to be either Gandalf or Saruman.” He sighed. 

 

“I’m sure you don’t want to think of that of either of them.” 

 

“I couldn’t think it of either of them. Saruman is our leader, the wisest of our group but Gandalf – he would die before he gave Sauron an inch.” He hesitated saying something. 

 

“What is it?” 

 

“Saruman has been studying Sauron to find a way to defeat him.” 

 

“And therefore, susceptible to his teachings...” Thranduil rubbed his face, thinking on this. He had met the three of the five wizards over his long lifetime. He liked Radagast the most. He didn’t meddle, he didn’t try to make things go his way... Elves loved nature and animals and Radagast was the wizard of that, he healed many animals and the elves recognized that. Gandalf was a nosy, busibody of a wizard but his heart was in the right place. Gandalf was the reason that he met his wife. But Saruman, he always got an edge to him. Thranduil just thought that it was just that he had gone through more trials than the other wizards but maybe it was not the case. 

 

“I think that they’re going to send another guardian.” Radagast’s deduction snapped Thranduil out of his thoughts. 

 

“Another guardian?” Thranduil rose to his feet. 

 

“I feel an electricity, like redistribution of power.” Radagast breathed out. “I felt it bringing me here, to this Palace. I don’t know when...” He trailed off as he felt a surge. 

 

A shining white light shone from the corner of the room, so bright that Thranduil and Radagast had to shield their eyes. 

 

The light faded and Thranduil eyes widened as he took in the three figures. It was too much for the Elvenking and he fainted dead away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who could it be???


	13. Time Passes

Thorin looked over at his younger sister as she cradled the third child she bore, Fíli and Kíli running around happily. 

 

He wishes he could be that happy. 

 

He had to be the person to tell his beloved sister that her husband had died in a mine collapse when he went to find a gem for his beloved. 

 

The color drained from her face. 

 

“What?” She breathed, clutching her stomach which protruded with child. “C’mon Thorin, that’s not funny.” 

 

“I’m not jesting, Dís. I wish I was.” 

 

He still remembered her utterly heartbreaking sobs, echoing in the hall. 

 

He swallowed uncomfortably. 

 

“The boys need their father. How could this happen?” She cried. 

 

Thorin wrapped his arms around his sister, the two young boys peeking their head into the room and saw their mother inconsolably crying into their Uncle. 

 

Their huge eyes widened further when Dís cried out in pain, clutching at her stomach. 

 

“Boys! Get Oín!” Fíli and Kíli ran across the hall to the sons of Groín’s place of residence. 

 

Oín quickly came running followed quickly by Glima, Gloín’s new wife. 

 

Oín gave her some herbs and made her comfortable, while Glima comforted her as Dís cried to her new cousin. 

 

“He’s gone.” She cried into Glima’s shoulders. Glima closed her eyes against the utter grief one of the strongest dwarrowdam she had ever met was going through. She rocked her back and forth, letting all the grief pour out of the Princess. 

 

Dagni was outside the room, comforting the two young heirs, who were inconsolable over the death of their father and possibly their mother. 

 

They were terrified that they were going to lose her too. 

 

Oín stepped out and the two boys and Thorin stood up. 

 

“The stress has put a toll on the Princess’ body. She will need to be bedridden for the rest of her pregnancy if she wants the babe to live and if she wants to survive this pregnancy.” 

 

Kíli burst into tears all over again, overwhelmed by all the emotion in the room. 

 

Dagni comforted the youngest prince. He was such a sensitive child, more so than Fíli. 

 

But Dís’ pregnancy was carried until full term, blessing her with a little girl. Víli and her had talked about if they had a little girl, that she would be named after her mother Lís. 

 

When word spread of Dís’ late husband leaving her with a little girl, the citizens of Erebor were overjoyed. It was a great blessing for the line of Durin to have a female heir. The first one in over 500 years was Dís and now her daughter. 

 

They firmly believed that Mahal himself was approving of them, for more females had been born, which was a sign of prosperity. That Mahal was approving of Thorin as King-in-Exile. 

 

When Dís was bedridden, she mourned her husband, her love and her One. She would never take another lover, she felt that in her bones. Her heart was ripped out of her chest but she had to live. 

 

She had three children that were half of Víli. And he was overjoyed by each pregnancy and birth. He loved his children more than life itself and he did everything he could for them. He gave each son their first gem to chew on when they were teething, he was there when they learned to walk and she mourned at all the things he would miss out on. 

 

The braids, finding their Ones...and not being there for this third birth. 

 

She cried so much she didn’t think she had any tears left in her body. 

 

The time for tears had passed, she needed to be strong. Her brother had kept the boys away from her, allowing her to cry not in front of them. 

 

She had three children to care for, Mahal willing, she thought as she placed a hand on her stomach. 

 

She needed to be strong for her Lionheart, for her Raven and for the newborn. 

 

All too soon, yet not soon enough, Dís gave birth to a beautiful little girl who looked just like her. Black hair, whisps of hair on her chin, and the Durin blue eyes. It was another sign that they were blessed. Black hair and blue eyes was a sign of Durin. 

 

Dís held Lís close and cried at the fact that her husband would have spoiled this little girl to death, had the best gems and clothes that he could get. 

 

But he wouldn’t get that chance, she would. 

 

She would do better than just clothes. 

 

She would make sure her children were warriors. 

 

She would make sure that her daughter would never have to fear someone harming her because if Lís was anything like her namesake, or anything like her mother, she would be the strongest of them all. 

 

After Dís gave birth, she cared for her children, leaving them in Glima’s care. 

 

Dís changed after the death of her beloved husband. She became harder, stronger. 

 

She was a warrior, she was a Princess, and most of all, she was a dwarrowdam. 

 

She forged alongside her brother, weapons of all makes, she made jewelry to sell in town and trained harder than she had ever trained before. 

 

She sometimes went into the forest and fought pretend Orcs and became faster, more agile and stronger. 

 

All too soon, her two boys, separated by five years, went into their warrior training. 

 

The boys idolized their Uncle, their surrogate father. 

 

Thorin took on a lot of responsibilities that their father would have had, most days relieving Dís of her rambunctious sons' behavior. He would take them to the forge and let them watch, their little eyes wide with wonder as they watched their uncle forge weapons and jewelry alike. The weapons were what was primarily made in Erebor but the jewelry was what he liked to make as a hobby in Erebor, when he was training. But his father and grandfather didn’t like him making such things, dwarrowdams made jewelry, dwarrows were supposed to make weapons. But he still made things for his mother and sister, despite the males in his family telling him otherwise. 

 

Fili and Kili grew up, never far apart, causing mischief as young ones are wont to do but they were good dwarflings. 

 

They often were around their mother though and she taught them basic stances with various weapons, even the bow, letting them use the bow that their father had gotten for her as a courting gift. 

 

Fili didn’t really like the bow, being a lot like his uncle. Thorin knew how to use the bow but didn’t prefer it as the weapon of choice. 

 

But Kili. 

 

Kili had true talent with the bow. Dís was stunned. Even as a dwarfling, he had great sight and aimed true. She looked over Kili’s head and looked at Thorin, who looked pained. 

 

“Looks like he takes after his mum!” Thorin exclaimed proudly, if not a bit shocked. Thorin realized that was the right thing to say as Kili beamed at him. 

 

Kili was a bit worried about his uncle’s reaction, not liking elves all that much. 

 

His mother however, told him of a time when she was a mere dwarfling, that she met elves. 

 

Kili loved the elves story. 

 

She told him of an elf king that was as beautiful as starlight but cold since his wife left for their afterlife, not wanting to be around to see the forest she loved so much, be overtaken by darkness. His wife left him with one son, the son that reminded her so much of herself and she took the two elder elves with her and they departed. Since then, the elf king had been sad, living half a life as his wife had left him. He raised his infant son and they protected the palace as much as they could, eventually having to expand their horizons and allow Silvan elves into the palace. The elf king was from a superior breed of elves, one of the first to be put on Middle Earth and he realized that his kind were dying out. The Greenwood was once great and green but Darkness was taking over, in the form of giant spiders. One such Silvan elf, a female one, with fire colored hair and blue eyes, rose quickly in the eye of her King, proving herself to be a fine warrior. She was quickly named Captain of the Guard, slaying spiders and Orcs, protecting her land as viciously as she could. 

 

Kili was enraptured. 

 

Fili wasn’t. 

 

Fili heard whispers of the things the Ered Luin dwarrows said about his mother. How she was an elf sympathizer, how Thorin wasn’t. That’s why their father died, he killed himself out of shame. 

 

He told this to his uncle, who looked quite upset about the news. 

 

“Fili, you mustn’t listen to them. They don’t know what your mother and our people went through. We passed through Mirkwood and we met the Elvenking but he was very kind to your mother. Your mother is very tolerant of elves, it is not a fault. She is a great mediator of our people, if we ever come across them again, she would be a great ambassador and Kili would be too.” Thorin stopped and thought. “Fili, you are my heir and it is wise to have people to help you, like I have your mother. Dís and I are really different in some aspects and the two of us together make a great team. Just as you, Kili and Lís will make a great team for the next generation.” 

 

Fili looked at the ground, carefully processing everything his uncle had to say. 

 

“And I pray to Mahal that you don’t lose your brother like I lost mine.” 

 

Grey eyes snapped to his uncle’s blue. Uncle Thorin never talked about his younger brother. 

 

“Uncle...” Fili’s eyes were wide as he saw the pain in Thorin’s eyes. 

 

“I can never forget that day. My brother, Frerin, was so much like you. Golden hair like our mother, grey eyes like you, he had so much life. So much time left. He convinced me to let him come to the battle with me. To guard me, the crown prince, he said he was the extra, the one that didn’t matter. But he mattered to me, he was my little brother. You must protect Kili, my little lion. I don’t want you to become angry and bitter like me. And I cannot even blame the elves for Frerin’s death. It was a battle against Orcs with only dwarrows there.” 

 

Fili strengthened by that story, that his Uncle trusted him enough to learn the truth about his other Uncle’s tragic death. 

 

He would protect Kili with his life. 

 

Kili, unaware of the current conversation, loved the time spent with his mother. He looked so much like his mother except for the eyes, he had his father’s warm brown eyes. He was nearing forty years old and he loved spending time with his little sister, when Fili was training with Thorin. They spent a lot of time together just the two of them, as Fili was the heir of the throne. Thorin was teaching him everything he knew. 

 

Kili wasn’t jealous as his mother was teaching him a lot of things to know as Fili’s chief advisor. They would rule together as Thorin and Dís ruled together in Thorin’s Halls. 

 

He thrived in the tutlege of his mother, she taught him everything she knew about the bow and she helped him pick his alternate weapon, the sword. She was proficient in the sword and helped him hone his skills before sending him off to Dwalin, who would make sure he was battle ready. 

 

Kili also spent a lot of time with his sister, Lis. She was the spitting image of their mother and had a core of mithril. She didn’t let her brothers or any living creature better her in any way. She fought tooth and nail for Dwalin to teach her alongside her brothers. Dwalin tried to fight it but eventually gave in as Dís and Lís glared at him. 

 

Lís from a very young age was incredibly strong. 

 

Dwalin noticed this right away. 

 

Durin strong. 

 

It was said that Durin forged an axe on his first breath after awakening. It was called Durin’s Axe and it was one of the greatest weapons ever crafted. It was unknown where it was now, but the legend lived on. 

 

Although, Dwalin didn’t know it, Dís forged a set of battle axes like Dwalin’s own Grasper and Keeper that he kept on his back. They were slightly smaller but no less lethal, for Aleris was slightly smaller than Dwalin’s hunkering form. 

 

But Lís was forged a different kind of weapon. 

 

A staff. 

 

It was a bit odd amongst their people, staffs were for healer and for wizards. But her mother specially crafted her staff. She could swing it and knock enemies out with the hardened and treated wood and it also had a hollow middle, if she broke it apart in the middle and grabbed the little handles and whirled them around at an intense, rapid pace an earsplitting tone would emit from the wood that was not as intense to dwarrows but lethal to Orcs. It was a design that was given to her by her late husband, who got that along with the bow from Rivendell all those years ago. 

 

Lís also trained with other weapons, preferring long twinned daggers that she kept at her sides. 

 

Lís and her mother took what skills they had and continued to teach the females of Erebor what they learned. 

 

They all were able to defend themselves and most of them were happy with that, electing not to take the advanced classes. 

 

But there were those warriordams who did. 

 

Dagni, Aleris, Lís, Glima, Fjola and Myara were improving their strength and agility day by day. 

 

Fjola was a healer in training under Oin and although she was a healer and Oin liked her greatly, she wasn’t encouraged to learn how to train as the expectation was that she would stay with the females and birth children, although Oin didn’t agree with the majority of dwarrows of that opinion. 

 

“Fjola, we don’t have enough healers. I will teach you what I can but you must use it the way you feel fit.” 

 

She took those words to heart, she trained with the Princess and their merry band of female warriors, warriordams as Dís liked to call them and she mimicked the weapons that Oin used in battle, a staff, not hollow like Lís’ but sturdy, accompanied by a battle knife. 

 

Myara was a bit of a wildcard. She was a Blue Mountain dwarf who begged to be allowed to stay in Thorin’s Hall. 

 

She was granted an audience with the King. 

 

She fell to her knees in front of him as a soldier accidentally pushed her a little too hard. 

 

“Easy, soldier.” The King cautioned. 

 

“Apologies, miss.” The soldier, Toki, apologized softly. He was shaken by this new dwarrowdam who had bruises all over her face. He shoved into her so roughly due to himself Wakening. 

 

Wakening is when a dwarrow meets his One and being that dwarrows were crafted from stone, they don’t awaken until they find their One. 

 

Myara stood, wincing as the bruises on her abdomen pulsed with pain. 

 

She held her head up high as the King’s eyes widened at the state of her face, split lip, black eye, torn hair. 

 

“I am a dwarrowdam under the leadership of a Blue Mountain dwarf, Lord Omi.” 

 

Thorin recognized the name, he didn’t allow females out for their protection. 

 

“I refused his advances for he is not my One and I shouldn’t be wed to someone that isn’t my One.” 

 

Thorin nodded agreeing with her so far. 

 

“He did this to me.” 

 

Thorin heard his sister gasp from beside him. It was a grave insult to hard a dwarrowdam, let alone a suitor. 

 

“I have a small pile of coins and gems that I was able to grab before running here. I have heard that you run a safe place to live here, I wish to barter my very small wealth for safety.” 

 

Myara produced very small rubies and a few coins. 

 

“I am able to forge and cook and clean. Whatever the Kingdom needs.” 

 

She saw Dís lean into her brother and whisper something in her ear. 

 

“Very well. I accept. You shall not be harmed here. Toki, help her to a guest quarters until we find her place in the Hall. Don’t knock her down again, if you would.” Toki grimaced at the shame of accidentally harming a dwarrowdam let alone his One. 

 

A ugly dwarf busted into the Hall, saw Myara and let out a battlecry running towards her. 

 

Myara let out a terrified scream. This was the Lord Omi. 

 

Toki stepped in front of Myara, leaving her staring at the bulk of his back. 

 

“Step aside.” Lord Omi demanded. 

 

“No.” Toki was absolute. 

 

“She is my bride.” 

 

Toki highly doubted that. 

 

“She has no marriage or courtship braids. Unless you are so low that you have no honor as to not even complete those traditions...” Toki trailed off, knowing that Omi wouldn’t be so stupid to admit that. 

 

“Enough of this!” He shrieked, grabbing Myara’s arm, she trying to escape his strong grasp with a cry, hitting his hand. 

 

“Enough!” King Thorin stood and moved forward to the male dwarrow. Omi released her and took a step back off the towering dwarrow king. “This dwarrowdam is a citizen of Thorin’s Hall now.” 

 

Omi stared at Myara. 

 

“You can’t just poach my citizens, King Thorin.” 

 

“She has received citizenship by myself and my kin. She is no longer your responsibility.” 

 

Omi sniffed but had long learned to pick his battles. 

 

“She’s not worth the fight.” He turned and left the Hall, slamming the huge door behind him. 

 

“Thank you.” Myara whispered. 

 

“What is your name?” Thorin asked the beaten dwarrowdam. 

 

“Myara.” She said quietly as she curtsied. 

 

“Come on, you can stay with me.” Dís moved forward and took Myara by the shoulders. “I have some ointments.” Myara looked at Toki one last time and moved with the Princess. 

 

Thorin slapped Toki on the back, making the guard go forward. 

 

“Met your One, did you?” Thorin grinned at the still shaken guard. 

 

“Aye.” He looked after her, her brown locks braided out her face. 

 

“Give her some time to come into her own here and then court her.” His King advised. Toki nodded in agreement. 

 

Myara came into her own in time. 

 

It took her a little while before she could stand males again, with the exception of Toki. She trusted him. He protected her when all the other dwarrows in her home village would turn away from her, not helping her. 

 

Dís took her under her wing and taught her lots of things, about her new culture, about weapons. 

 

Eventually when Myara summoned the courage, she trained with twin swords like Prince Fili. She prospered. Her wounds healed and more importantly, her self-confidence improved. 

 

Everything was going well until the Wizard visited the King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the latest chapter. I feel like the plot just wrote itself this time.


	14. Lis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Lis and what is happening in Erebor.

A loud exhale echoed through the vacant Erebor, startling Lís and her dwarrows. Lís looked in fear at the door that didn’t seem like all that much blocking them from the fires of the dragon. 

Lís exhaled shakily, rising to her feet. The dwarrows looking to their Queen.

“We must leave. Everyone out.” She commanded. “Two of you carry the chest. Quietly. Grab the weapons.” They nodded and filed out in a single line, Balthrasir staying behind to assist the Queen in whatever she needed. 

They worked in silent as they gathered their bows and swords and attached them to their person. 

At the last second, she grabbed the black arrows with the mark of Dale on them. 

They walked a fair distance from the mountain before huddling around the Queen to discuss the plan. 

“We make for Mirkwood.” The protesting went higher before the Queen shushed them. “Quiet! The dragon is awakening… We need to get to safety if the dragon emerges.” 

 

-

Galadriel awoke with a gasp, her ring flaring as she awoke with a jolt. 

Her husband, Celeborn, sat up and looked at her in question. 

“I must…I must…” She muttered to herself as she launched to her feet and wrapped a dressing gown around herself. 

“Galadriel, what happened? What did you see?” He rose to his feet and laid a hand on his wife’s arm. Her eyes searched his. 

“It is time. I have got flashes for many years, but things are changing. It is all coming together. I must depart for Rivendell. You must go, follow the plan.” 

She turned away from him and he grasped his wife’s hand and pulled her back to him. He pushed a hair behind her ear and fingered the tip. 

He utterly adored his wife and her strength.

“I want you to come back to me.” He intoned, her eyes smiling at the affection in his voice. 

“I will.” He watched as she turned away. He watched after her for a second and then set off on his own mission. 

He walked into a room that was off limits to servants and visitors for many years. 

So many beings thought that Galadriel was such a fearsome elf, sometimes he got shuffled to the side. He loved his wife and loved how strong she was, how blessed. 

And she chose him. 

But now it was his time to be strong. 

He inserted a key into a lock in the door, the lock turning slowly due to disuse. He pushed open the door after the click, the room was a weapon room. 

Lorien had been peaceful for so long but something was happening, something that alarmed even the fairest Galadriel. 

It was time to take up arms. 

 

-

Lís led her soldier to the edge of the forest, pausing at the guard. 

“We seek audience with King Thranduil.” She spoke firmly with an air of grace. 

The elvenguard stood back allowing them entrance. 

“They’ve been expecting you.” 

Lís looked at the tall brunette elves in confusion, locking eyes with Balthrasir, who shrugged. She pressed forward, following the elvenguard into the Palace. 

Mirkwood used to be beautiful and green once upon a time and now it was all mirky, for lack of a better word. The Wood Elves have worked hard to keep the Palace as clear as they could, the Palace was still quite beautiful even for Dwarrows. The tree’s branches intertwining to create a beautiful place to live and rule. 

Lís preferred her mountain though. 

Soon, the small army from Erebor found themselves in front of the Elvenking and his crown prince, Legolas. 

“Greetings.” Lís intoned, bowing. Thranduil inclined his head likewise. 

Lís waved a hand, and two soldiers came forward to place a chest near Lís’ feet. 

She opened the latch and threw it open, temporarily blinding the King and Prince. 

“Is that…” Legolas breathed. 

“Legolas.” Thranduil warned. 

“These were found in Thror’s bedroom.” Lís stated. 

Thranduil raised a brow. 

“I can only blame goldsickness.” Lís explained. “I found lots of damning evidence in the fact of the contract, which rendered paid in full. He probably kept these out of spite. I barter these and whatever knowledge I have for the safety of myself and my kin.” 

“I understand. I am gratified to have them back. Darling?” 

A beautiful elf appeared from the shadows, coming to Thranduil’s side with a familiarity that was evident of many years together. 

It couldn’t be. 

“Darling, do they look the same?” The Elvenqueen smiled serenely. 

“They look perfect.” Queen Daenastra fingered the gems longingly. “Círdan, Elénaril, Legolas, come here.” The Queen lifted three circlets out of the chest and placed them on three elflings, Legolas being the youngest. She placed a kiss on their forehead with each placement. 

Lís couldn’t bear to watch, missing her children so much in that moment, if they survived the trek to wherever they went. She put her hand on her stomach and vowed to never be parted from her fourth child, no matter a dragon or otherwise. 

Daenastra watched the Dwarf Queen. 

“We’ve been expecting you.” Daenastra intoned to Lís. 

Lís’ eyes snapped up in surprise. 

“How?” 

“We were sent back. Myself and my two sons I sailed to Valinor with. One of the guardians that was sent to battle Sauron, has been compromised. We were sent back but I had a feeling about you, Lís, Queen of Erebor.” 

Lís swallowed. The Valar. That made her uneasy. 

“The dragon…” Daenastra mused. 

“It was awakening. It has been asleep for many years, since the fall.”

“How did you survive?” Legolas breathed, unable to help his curiosity. 

“We stayed in the servant’s quarters, dug a hole and got food. Cooked away from the mountain.” One soldier gruffly replied. 

“Smart.” Círdan commented, clearly the eldest of the children, due to the bigger crystal embedded in his circlet. 

Daenastra grabbed a feminine circlet and place it on her head and Thranduil rose and collected his from the bottom of the chest, leaving the necklaces that were to go to his son’s wives or children, leaving one feminine necklace that he fingered lovingly. He grasped the chain and pulled it and crossed over to his wife, her allowing him to put the chain around her neck. 

He pressed a kiss to her temple. 

He couldn’t believe he had his wife and two eldest sons back. He thought he would never get to see them again as the forest was sick and he couldn’t leave as long as the forest lives. 

He missed her presence so much. Every day was unbearable as he was alone. His son helped. He cared about his son a great deal but he missed the mother of his children and the person who loved him for who he was. 

She was a Silvan elf that had enraptured the old elf, though still quite in his prime for a few more thousands of years but the effortless beauty of Daenastra had enraptured him and soon they were courting and married. Then all too soon, his father died and Daenastra sailed on the ship to somewhere he couldn’t reach. 

It took a lot for him not to fade. 

But she left behind an infant elf. He had to live for his son. There was no one else to care for the young prince. 

He would die before he let advisors guide his little elf into what they wanted. 

He was left with an incredibly kind, loving and headstrong Crown Prince. 

Thrandruil was torn between exasperation and pride. 

Legolas never hesitated on pointing out the King’s flaws, even to his face. He cared about his forest and would do anything to see it cleared of those Valar-damned spiders. 

“How did you know we were coming?” Lís asked, breaking Thranduil from his thoughts. 

“We thought the smoke was either from the dragons or Orcs, we didn’t know a small army survived from the siege.” Thranduil answered. 

“Ah.” Lís answered. 

Daenastra moved quietly, a wisp of sound over the floor as the fabric from her gown touched it. 

“You are with child.” She looked at the Queen, who flushed, knowing full well that her husband is well-known. 

“Yes. Three months. That is why we came here. I wanted my child to be safe.” Lís raised her chin in anticipation of the snide comments. 

“Your children miss you greatly.” Daeanstra commented, staring into the air above their heads. 

“They live.” 

“Most.” Daenastra made eye contact with the Queen, as tears filled her eyes as she wavered on her feet, Balthrasir holding his beloved upright as she let out a cry of despair. 

“Who?” She whispered. The elf looked at the Queen in regret. 

“Frerin.” Lís let out a sob, as the soldier bent their head and as one, chanted a funeral chant, praying for safe travels to Mahal’s Hall. 

Lís couldn’t believe her little lion was dead. 

“He had an honorable death.” Daenastra sympathized with the raw pain she saw in a fellow mother. She had lost a child herself and knew how much it hurt. She couldn’t imagine losing an adult child. Hers was so young when the little princess passed. The young princess was rarely talked about in the Palace due to the immense pain the whole kingdom felt on the Princess’ passing and due to the anger that Thranduil felt when her name was uttered. Her husband had always been rather emotional. 

“I am gratified to hear that.” Lís wiped her tears away. 

“Thorin lives and is King-in-Exile in Ered Luin. Dis is a strong Princess with her brother and three children, their names are unclear.” She looked above the dwarrows heads again, lost in thought. 

“I found these in Thror’s chest with the gems.” Lís brought forth the black arrows. 

“I don’t recognize these.” Daenastra’s brows furrowed in confusion. 

“I do.” Another voice came from the back of the dwarrows. Everyone turned and the Wood Elves turned their attention to the new elf. 

“Celeborn.” Thranduil dryly stated. 

“Greetings from Lorien.” He bowed. The Wood Elves bowed back. Lís watched the introductions. He must be royalty as well. 

“Where is Galadriel?” Daenastra asked, partially eagerly. She was the wisest of them all. 

“She has a different path for now. We shall meet up again quite soon. You shall see her then.” Celeborn wore silver armor, a sword on his hip and battle braids entwined in his blond hair. Thranduil hasn’t seen Celeborn in battle armor for an age. He was living comfortably in Lorien while his people were dying fighting the evil coming off of Dol Guldur. 

Thranduil rolled his eyes, petulantly. 

“Always with the I know most attitude. Somethings never change.” 

Celeborn raised an eyebrow. 

“Indeed.” 

Thranduil scowled. He knew that Celeborn thought he was the least wise and the most arrogant. 

Legolas smirked at the Lord of Lorien and quickly muted his expression when his mother looked his way, a brow arched. 

“What is it from then?” Thranduil arched a brow at him. 

“Girion of Dale, of course. He tried to kill the dragon, one scale has been removed, leaving an opportunity of elimination.” Celeborn strode forward as he spoke, passing the dwarrows and glancing at the arrows. He fingered the tip. “Girion toiled hard on these arrows. I am surprised your King had some.” 

“Thror has passed, Thrain is barely hanging on.” Daenastra informed him. 

Celeborn hmmed. 

“Not surprising. Thror should have died when he lost the goldsickness, that accursed ring of his must have kept him alive.” Celeborn stated. He tilted his head at Daenastra. “Didn’t you sail?” 

“I did.” She replied. 

“Then how are you here?” 

“The Valar sent me back. A guardian against Sauron has been compromised.” 

“We think it is either Gandalf or Saruman. Radagast came to call and told me he thought the Valar would choose a new guardian.” 

“Yes. Gandalf was chosen by the Elven race and Saruman by the dwarven. This may be biased but I doubt Gandalf would stray.” 

“Why do you say that?” Daenastra asked. 

“Gandalf spends a lot of time with the halflings.” 

“The what?” Legolas asked, curiously. 

“The Hobbits, mostly they keep to the Shire near Ered Luin. They are a hardy race but not a warrior race. Very comfortable in their lives and hobbit holes. Only one family has adventurers, although I feel that one will go on an adventure very soon. Once, a female hobbit made it all the way to Rivendell.” He mused, recalling the story his son-in-law told him about the beautiful hobbit lass full of life. 

“It must be as we thought then.” Daenastra turned to her husband. “It was Saruman.” 

“Interesting… Things are changing… Already so much has changed from the path they were supposed to take…” Celeborn trailed off as he spun around, his armor gently clanking together. He kneeled before the dwarrows to be at eye level. “Greetings, Queen.” He bowed his head, Lís bowed her head back. “I am gratified to see you alive. You have done much to change the path of things that were supposed to happen.” 

Lís’ eyebrows arched. 

“Your daughter.” Celeborn clarified. 

“Dís?” Lís stepped forward. “She lives, the Queen said.” 

“She does.” Celeborn stated. He stared off. “She misses you greatly, she has been through trials but is strong. Her One passed.” Lís gasped, holding a hand to her mouth. “She is a strong ruler, though and has three strong dwarflings. She is a trained warrior despite her brothers and father’s disapproval. She never forgot what you taught her.” He looked into her and saw happy tears swim in her eyes, a few escaped. 

“You have no idea how happy that makes me.” Lís smiled through her tears, Balthrasir coming up to tug her into his chest, her moving willingly. 

Lís pulled back. 

“I saw the hole in the dragon’s armor. I know where to hit him.”


End file.
